Family Ties II: Ties that Bind
by ladyofdarkstar
Summary: Ripples of rebellion danced across the galaxy long before the shockwaves of the Death Star's destruction were felt. Politics, intrigues, dangers, and family connections turned the Empire's ultimate weapon of peace into a battlefield all its own. Story contains events of ANH and one month prior as seen through the eyes of Admiral Motti's younger sister. Reviews are love!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: As I said on my profile page, I have a real hard time writing one-shots. More always begs to be said, and thusly Part II came to life. This is still a light-hearted family oriented story. But this is also me doing the writing, so it's going to have it's fair share of action/adventure/drama. I hope you all enjoy. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

There was dreck-all to do on the Death Star. I came to that conclusion after my second day as its newest citizen.

My first day had been a flurry of the most boring activity I had ever encountered. First thing in the morning, Conan roused me for breakfast with him, saying something about how I needed to adjust myself to the "day/night" routine of the station. Apparently the planet I came from had a six hour difference in its rotation of day and night, so in essence he was rousing me at my 1am to have breakfast at his 6am. All I remember from that meal was the spread. It was lovely, I was forced to admit, with fresh fruits and pastries and breads that I hadn't even had the privilege of enjoying when I was planetside. I guess being second-in-command of this place came with a decent set of benefits.

I started to exhibit some semblance of awareness as he escorted me down to medical—where I underwent nearly every test known to man and alien. Four hours and several inoculations later, I was certified healthy and awake and acceptable as a resident of this space station. One would think that that was enough of an excitement for one day. But, oh no, there was more.

After being poked, prodded, and immunized, Conan met me at the door and I accompanied him to his office. His aide, a man named Major Dixon Fehr, pretty much did the same thing to my background that Medical had done to my body. I sat in the chair across from his desk and answered his questions to the best of my ability. This was more difficult than it should have been, given that during the course of my interview my head started to feel heavier than it had when I'd woken up. I kept nodding off between questions, and the ones that I'd managed to answer I did so without thinking. Which was dangerous. Seriously dangerous. Being a Motti wasn't protection from ISB if I happened to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

Major Fehr seemed amused at my lack of ability to concentrate. If I had had the energy, I would have smacked him for it. Officer or no, I wasn't about to let anyone leer at me in that condescending way. When he started to laugh, I realized that I'd said that portion out loud. What was wrong with me? I'd drank a gallon of caf at breakfast just to keep up with conversation. At this point, I should have been bouncing off the proverbial walls, unable to sit still for a moment.

I didn't feel it when Major Fehr's hand cupped my chin, tilting my face up to his. Come to think of it, I hadn't heard him slide his chair backwards or come around the desk. Even worse, I hadn't felt it when I'd folded my arms on his desk and laid my head down on them.

"Wha…" I tried, my voice all thick and slurred. "I don't… Don't touch… me."

He wasn't exactly leering anymore, though he did seem amused as could be. Which was worse than leering in my opinion.

"Be at ease, Jentessa. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Easy… for you to… say. Why… why am I… lemme go."

His eyebrows lifted in mock-offense. "What kind of an officer would I be if I left an esteemed member of a Core Family in such dire straits?" He continued, the laughter barely hidden in his voice. "The answer to your question, Miss Motti, is that your inoculations are finally catching up with you."

I tried to shake my head, and then remembered that I couldn't because his hand was on my chin. Trying to pull back didn't improve my situation. "What… in..innn… 'culations…"

That time he didn't bother to hide his laugh. "Every officer on this station, indeed every dignitary with need for an extended stay, must undergo the same inoculations against diseases and viral infections. The chemicals can have a strong effect on those with genetically weakened systems."

Genetically what? I wanted to scream at him that I was as fit as any officer on this station. The only reason I wasn't as strong as Fehr right now was because… and then it sank in. Oh, joy. He was referring to my being a woman rather than a man, implying that I was genetically inferior to him by virtue of that alone. He was just like my brother. Conan, like most of the chauvinistic idiots that ran the Empire, believed that women had no place in politics, government, and especially military command.

Yet another one of the reasons why I had run away rather than marry Count Averstan. He was just as bad as this Major.

Not that my brother was a bad person, mind you. He treated his wife like she was made of gold, practically worshiped the ground she walked on. And his daughter? She was the bright center of his universe. My niece and sister-in-law lacked for nothing, lived in lavish apartments on Imperial Center and enjoyed every excess that wealth and privilege could provide. The fact that I was currently draped in a dress that cost more than I made in a standard year as a law clerk was proof enough that he did not hate women. He just believed that they had their place in the galaxy just as men did.

And that place was not in command.

Was it wrong of me to hate this man for the very things I excused in Conan? Probably. But I never claimed to be perfect. I left that up to people like the Emperor. I was just about to tell him as much when his hand vanished and I nearly fell forward out of the chair. A new hand appeared on my body, landing on my shoulder and gently pushing me back into my seat. This hand was warm, gentle, though calloused enough to let me know its owner probably knew how to handle himself.

"I trust there is a logical explanation as to why you have your hands on Miss Motti, Major Fehr."

That definitely wasn't a question. It was a demand if I'd ever heard one. A demand delivered with enough frost to make deep space seem warm and cozy in comparison.

"Certainly, sir," the Major answered swiftly. A little too swiftly. "Admiral Motti left her in my care. I noted that Miss Motti appeared to be reacting poorly to the inoculations and was about to faint. I wasn't about to let her fall to the floor."

"And I suppose grasping her chin like that was better than, say, an appropriate touch to the shoulder or wrist?" my would-be savior asked.

"She tilted quickly, sir," answered Fehr. "I had very little time to react."

"I see. I'm sure the Admiral will take great joy in knowing he can trust you with his most precious possession. Though do try to improve on your reflexes, especially where you grasp."

"Yes, sir," Fehr bit out, sounding as if he wanted to say anything but the polite and proper reply.

The world had stopped spinning long enough for me to glance upward, wanting to put a face with the hand now touching me. I blinked up blearily into the face of the last man I'd ever expect to come to my rescue.

* * *

General Cassio Tagge, third in command of the Death Star, kept one arm around my shoulders as the decks whizzed by. I was grateful of that, as his strength was the only thing that kept my feet from sliding out from under me. Still, a part of my mind was active enough to wonder just what this aid was going to cost me. He was a Tagge and I was a Motti, and historically our two powerful families had never gotten along—for any reason. There was a story that, back in the days of the Old Republic, my great grandfather eight times removed and his great grandmother of the same distance away in his ancestry, had stood in the center of the Senate building and argued about what color the building, itself, was.

In view of the ENTIRE SENATE in **_FULL_** SESSION!

Even the elected Chancellor at the time hadn't been able to silence the two. They had been allowed to float there in the air, screaming at each other until they were purple in the face (or as one claimed the color was indigo while the other said it was purple!), until the session literally ran out of time. No one remembered just what had touched off the initial feud between our two families. It was enough to know that a Motti wouldn't urinate on a Tagge if he was on fire, and a Tagge would rather space a planet's worth of food than give a scrap of it to a Motti.

I personally considered it a mark of just how powerful the Emperor was that His Majesty had managed to arrange for a Motti and a Tagge to co-rule this battle station in peace. Though I suspect that my uncle also had some say in that matter. Just thinking of my Uncle made me want to give in to what my body was telling me and pass out.

"I…" I tried again, feebly. "Gen…gen'ral Taa… Sir, where… I…"

My head fell forward on the stretchy cord that was my neck, landing on the solid wall of his chest. He allowed it, going so far as to adjust my head so that I wasn't suffocating against the fabric of his uniform. But it wasn't a suggestive move like I would have expected from Major Fehr. It wasn't much of anything, truth be told. Just a gentleman's grace in making certain a lady of worth wasn't injured.

"I am taking you someplace safe, Miss Motti," he replied neutrally. "Your brother has been called to attend to a fleet matter, otherwise he would have shown up to collect you."

I blinked, seeing nothing but the expanse of his chest beneath that olive drab uniform. "Con's… rooms…"

"I'm afraid I don't have access to his quarters, Miss. I have arranged for a place where you can recover yourself and for guards to protect you during your rest."

"Why…"

He glanced down at me. I could feel it in the shifting of the fabric beneath my cheek. "Whatever the issues between myself and Conan, they are not your affair," he said quietly. "Regardless of what you may think, Jentessa Motti, I will not use you as a pawn in a game between us."

"Good…" I replied, again, without thinking. "Hate pol'tics. I'm horr-oorr—bably at it."

I felt him chuckle, felt the rumble in his chest as a soothing counterpoint to the strong beat of his heart. "I know, Jentessa. I remember well our days together at secondary school. In fact, you seem to speak just as eloquently now as you did back then."

I couldn't believe it, but a chuckle of my own escaped my lips. "You're still… as arr'gant… as you … then."

I followed that stunning bit of witty conversation with a fake pummel of a fist against his shoulder. Which netted me another chuckle from him for my efforts. Yes, I had to admit that he was still the same arrogant, sharp-witted boy beneath the stolid iron-faced man he'd become. We'd only shared a scant year together in secondary school, me entering and him graduating. But it had been enough to get a bead on his personality then. Unlike the rest of the Tagge clan, most especially unlike that horrific rancor-faced Domina Tagge, he'd been marginally tolerable. So much so that I hadn't objected to dancing with him at his graduation gala.

Cassio Tagge may not have been the most attractive boy at the school, but there had been something about him, something in that darkly brooding face that was just shy of being devastatingly attractive, that made him worth noticing.

He was also the best dancer I'd ever had the pleasure of sharing a waltz. Though right now I felt as if I was doing that all over again. The lift was just spinning and spinning and spin…

"Easy, Tessa," Cassio said, shifting his arm more securely down to my waist as I nearly tumbled from his arms. "I take it you have never undergone Imperial Immunization before."

"N… no. Is that… why I'm… ummm…"

"Yes, that is exactly why. It's a heavy dose of antibiotics, normally reserved for those deployed planet-side for extended periods. It's affectionately referred to as the 'stormtrooper special.' Moff Tarkin insisted that everyone follow that protocol if they wish to remain aboard the Death Star. Like any other station or ship, a sickness can run rampant through the crew before we know it due to the recycled air."

"Oh." Yes, that was about as far as I could get. A single word. To a Tagge of all people. Conan was going to simply loose his mind over this. "Thank you."

"Whatever for, Miss Motti?"

"Tessa. Call me… Tessa, please. 'nough people call me Misssss Mot-tti."

The world tilted again and I found my head back on his chest, grateful for the warmth and the sound of his heartbeat. He chuckled again. "You're welcome, Tessa. Though in public, I will address you as proper. Just as you will address me as General Tagge."

I felt myself smirk. "Only if you… des'rve it. You're a Taggge. I'm a… a…"

"Hot mess?"

I attempted to bap him again. And missed. It felt as if my body was simultaneously weighing a thousand pounds and yet turning into air. His arm around my waist became stronger and I closed my eyes, giggling at the sensation, at his retort.

"Don't make me… like you. Con will… have a… stroke."

"Well, we wouldn't want that, now would we?"

The lift doors parted. I could tell as I felt the whoosh of air. But that was the last thing I could tell before darkness swallowed me whole.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you all for enjoying, reviewing, favoriting and following this story. Reviews inspire me to write, so please keep them coming! It's nice to write something from the everyday person's perspective of the Empire, especially when they aren't military or shattering plots like crazy blonde godzillas (yes, a cheap dig on my own crack-fic story Careful What You Wish For. LOL.). Anyway, I hope you like this next chapter.

Special thanks to **Hoplite39** for allowing me to use some of the characters and order references from **Loyal soldier of the Empire - Journal of an Imperial Stormtrooper. **Check it out if you haven't already. It's very much worth the read!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

When I woke up, it definitely wasn't in a place I expected. Note that I did not say the "last place" I would have ever expected. For me, that last place would have been back on Alderaan, in my tiny little Clerk of the Court office that smelled like burnt caff and stale pastries. I would be sitting in my less than comfortable standard-issue chair, a mountain of data cards and pads teetering precariously on the edge of my cramped desk. And everyone would be calling me Brianna Ternst, not Jentessa Motti.

Strange, how much I had grown to like being Brianna Ternst, how much I had loved my efficiency apartment with its single bed and the refresher that broke more often than it worked. Walking to work every morning with the masses of other data jockeys, a faceless person in a sea of faceless sentients just trying to make ends meet, had felt like glorious freedom. There had even been an investigator on assignment from the Correlian Security Force that I'd been tempted to ask out to dinner. Corran Horn, I think his name was…

Fat chance that he was still hanging out on Alderaan right now. And even if he was, I'm fairly certain that Twi'lek floozy, Olonrae, from the next office over had her lekku draped all over him by now.

So waking up on the Death Star wasn't the last place I'd imagine. The office I was in? Well, that was another issue entirely.

The blackness of unconsciousness began to recede, replaced with muted grays that became washed out whites that eventually merged into the sticky feeling of dried tears on my eyelashes. I blinked them experimentally, letting the stages of awareness take their sweet time going through the motions. It wasn't like I had anywhere to be at the moment.

"You'll forgive me if I do not agree with this course of action, Your Excellency," someone I didn't recognize was saying. "There is a proven vulnerability in the heart of this station's construction."

"If you are referring to the exhaust port flaw as pointed out by Grand Admiral Thrawn, I assure you it is of no consequence now," answered another, extremely familiar voice. "I have commissioned an armament project that will fill that section of the station with more turbolasers than currently exists in all of your fleet, Grand Admiral Batch. The towers and their weapons will be more than adequate to deflect any enemy bombardment."

Turbolasers? Grand Admirals? Vulnerability in this _station_? Impossible! I'd seen the map of this place when Con had taken me on a partial tour the day I'd arrived. This thing was bigger than most moons. The entire Imperial Fleet couldn't destroy this place even with all its weapons firing at once.

"I hope, for your sake and my own, that you are right. Would you be opposed to my overseeing the construction of these new defense towers?"

"You will find no opposition here. The Emperor, himself, created you as a Grand Admiral for many reasons, the least of which, from what I have come to understand, is your genius in weapons development. I welcome your input on the project. I shall inform Admiral Motti of your temporary transfer to this station."

"If it will not offend, Your Excellency, I would prefer to work with General Tagge on this."

"Any particular reason why?"

A pause. As if someone was considering their words very carefully.

"General Tagge and I share the same opinion on this station," the other continued. "Until this battle station is fully operational, it is vulnerable. The data offered by Admiral Thrawn highlights those weaknesses, and also offers suggestions as to how to compensate for them until the turbolaser towers are completed. Between that data and the extensive notes taken by General Tagge, I believe the two of us can provide the necessary redeployment of troops and ships to protect the station in the meantime."

"And Admiral Motti does not share your opinion of the situation." Familiar Voice said, his tone taking on a hard edge of challenge.

"To be blunt, Your Excellency, no. He does not. It would be a waste of his time to be assigned to this project. I would rather work with someone that will not fight me on every turn."

Silence filled the office, so much so that I wanted to shift uncomfortably just to hear something other than the rapid beating of my heart. I wasn't supposed to be hearing any of this. That much I knew.

"You trust in Admiral Thrawn's analysis."

"Yes, Your Excellency, I do. The Emperor would not have placed someone… like him… as highly if he did not believe in the man's effectiveness."

I could almost hear a lip twist. "Yes, there is that. Very well, I will issue the orders. Between the three of you, I expect this station to soon stand without flaw."

"Three of us?"

"Indeed. I am not a fool, Admiral Batch. While my distaste for Admiral Thrawn and what he represents is deep-seated, so also is my desire for this project to succeed. I have asked the Admiral to attend this station until such time as the stolen plans are back in our hands, or until I feel this station is operational enough that he can return to his exile. I doubt highly the Emperor would approve of his presence here when he comes to visit."

"There is that," the other agreed. "His exile to the Unknown Regions is a sharp lesson that even a Grand Admiral can fall into disfavor."

The two men were quiet for a moment, as if indulging in a shared shutter of horror.

"Admiral Motti will not like this move, you realize, regardless of the logic behind it," The familiar voice began. "He'll see it as a personal attack. Be prepared for that. However, I fear we must table this discussion for now. It appears my niece has finally woken from her slumber."

Well, there was no use hiding the fact that I was awake. I fully opened my eyes, taking in the form of a rather attractive man in his mid-forties with brown hair, blue eyes, and a uniform I had never seen before. It was all white with gold epaulettes on the shoulders, his black boots glistening with a pristine mirror shine. But no code cylinders on his tunic front, I noted with a touch of surprise. He was seated in front of the most ornate desk I had ever seen, its color and grain pattern marking it as prized Bothan pinewood.

And walking out from behind that desk was a man I would know anywhere, his smile wide if still conservative. And those arms were outstretched, as if waiting for the hug he knew was about to be trust upon him.

I was up and moving before I realized it, my relief almost palpable. "Uncle Wilhuff," I breathed, burying my face into his shoulder, sagging as his arms wrapped around me in return. "Thank the Empire, it's you. I was afraid…"

"Afraid of what, my dear?" he said, smoothing a hand over my hair.

I bit my tongue behind my lips, old childhood training coming to the forefront of my mind. Wilhuff Tarkin was not my uncle by blood, but by marriage. The Tarkin family was just as respected as that of the Motti, or the Tagge, or even the Praji lines. All four were so intermarried that it was often difficult to remember who was out to get who, and who was welcomed by virtue of true blood relations. But just because we were related didn't mean he would hesitate in using anything I said against Conan when it suited him. One ill-placed word in families such as mine could destroy reputation and career forever.

Such was the drawback of living the "life of luxury." And people wondered why I chose to live as Brianna Ternst.

Besides, we were not alone. I didn't know what a Grand Admiral was, specifically, but I could gather enough from the tiles on this Batch's rank bar that he was head and shoulders above my brother on the Naval pecking order. If my uncle wouldn't hesitate to use what I said to gain approval, how much more would this guy run off and repeat?

"Nightmares," I said, lifting my head up and giving him my most dazzling smile. "Silly nightmares, Uncle Wil. I'm not used to so many military men around me. That, combined with the inoculations…"

He returned my smile, his a touch on the condescending side, patting my cheek affectionately. "You are a lovely child, Tessa, and I thank you for generously guarding your words. However General Tagge relayed some of the events that brought you to my office. Rest assured, you will not have cause to fear again."

I felt my smile drop for a moment, my heart sinking with it. Worst case scenario, Uncle Wil could publicly execute Major Fehr. The guy was a creep, but was that really worth his life? Better to wait and talk to Con and let him deal with it.

He took my hands gently from his shoulders, slipping one into the crook of his arm and turning me back to his other guest. "May I present Grand Admiral Martio Batch of the Imperial Fleet. Admiral Batch, may I introduce Jentessa Motti, sister of Admiral Motti and one of my most cherished relations."

Admiral Batch stood with a flowing ease that reminded me of a dance, extending his hand to take mine and pressing the gentlest of kisses upon it. Even his bow was polished enough to have me flushing slightly before I realized it.

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Motti," he said as he stood. "It is a rare treat to have family so close while on assignment for our Emperor. It is rarer still that that family is a vision of loveliness."

I dropped a curtsey as was required, and my eyes. "You give me too much praise, my lord. I am only pleased that I could bring a smile to my Uncle and brother's faces."

Uncle Wil chuckled, giving my hand on his elbow a gentle squeeze. "Charm and grace and beauty, Admiral Batch. These are the things we seek for ourselves when the day has drawn to a close. These are the things we fight for, when all is said and done."

Years of private tutelage at my mother's side kept my from fidgeting uncomfortably under their praise. Another reason I missed Alderaan so much. There, I was actually useful for something other than arm decoration. To these men, I was nothing more than a breathing epaulette—probably less, considering the only worth I showed was when I was on their arm. Epaulettes were decorations that didn't talk back, were always present. Were always a display of rank and wealth.

I smiled again, falling into old routines with ease. "Forgive me for interrupting," I continued. "Uncle, if you would be so kind as to tell me where I am, I'll find my way back to my quarters."

Admiral Batch seemed to blink at that. "You have not enjoyed a full tour of the Emperor's finest station?"

"No, my lord. Regrettably my brother has been detained with Fleet obligations. I have only just arrived a day ago. There hasn't been time for such things."

"Perhaps Admiral Batch will rectify that after dinner this evening," Uncle Wil added.

I knew that quality in his voice all too well, that soft undertone of quiet plotting that was the hallmark of Imperial politics. I'd just stepped into something, something that had me guest staring as a pawn on Uncle's dejarik board. Something that had to do with Admiral Batch? That was a given. Involving me directly however meant that it also had something to do with Conan. And anything that had to do with Conan was going to involve Cassio to some extent, due to the rather public nature of their rivalry.

Inwardly I sighed. I was back into the heart of the very thing I'd run away from.

Idly I wondered if that Corran fellow wasn't right to let Olonrae be the one to catch his eye. The only thing he had to worry about with her was about a month's worth of angry holo messages when he didn't call her the next day. What was it Cassio had called me? Oh, that's right, a "hot mess." It looked like Corran had dodged a hot mess the day I pushed that stormtrooper down the ray shaft.

Apparently Batch caught on to the political undercurrent floating around the room. He orchestrated another formal bow in my direction. "I would be honored, so long as Admiral Motti and Miss Motti both consent."

"Then it is settled," Uncle Wil said with finality, as if Con had already given his blessing. "After the formal dinner tonight, provided you are not too exhausted from dancing, my dear, Admiral Batch will give you that much deserved tour of the station."

I blinked at him, hiding my gritted teeth behind my smile. "Dancing, Uncle?"

"Why, yes. There is a celebration planned tonight. In your honor primarily, my dear, as well as several other trivial matters."

My honor… that was political speak for the fact that my presence was now being used to obfuscate some sort of something else that I probably didn't want to know about.

"How soon until Grand Admiral Thrawn arrives?" Admiral Batch inquired.

I was treated to the rare sight of the illustrious Uncle Wilhuff Tarkin, Grand Moff of the Empire and personal council member to the Emperor, himself, take a page from my book and grind his teeth behind his polite smile. I noticed it, though. And so did Admiral Batch. And dare I say there was a glint of smug satisfaction in Batch's eye over it?

"Who is Grand Admiral Thrawn?" I asked.

"No one," Uncle Wil snapped quickly, a light in his eyes that made me question the wisdom of asking that question. He took a moment to close his eyes and regain his composure, his smile returning as he patted my hand again with gentle affection. "He is a dangerous man, Tessa, and you are one of my greatest treasures. Heed my advice and stay away from him."

"Your uncle is correct, Miss Motti," Admiral Batch added smoothly. "Though you do not have to worry about him. I shall think your dance card will be quite full at the gala tonight, especially with myself, your brother, and your uncle expecting more than a single dance with you. Are you certain you are recovered from your ordeal? Forgive me for saying so, but you look pale, Miss Motti."

Pale wasn't going to begin to cover what I was feeling. Dancing… with all these military men, making small talk and saying things like 'my, aren't you fetching in your dress uniform' all night long to countless faces I'd never remember or see again. I could think of many things I'd rather be doing in that time frame. Walking across the exterior of the station without a vac suit sprang to mind.

"Just overcome with joy," I said, hoping that it sounded convincing. "A gala is a most splendid idea, though I must admit that I shall not be here long enough to expect such honors. I have work on Alderaan that is impor—"

"Nonsense," Uncle Wil chuckled again. "I think we can find several reasons for you to remain onboard our station, the least of them being your radiant light." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully in my direction. "Though perhaps our good Admiral is correct. You are pale, Tessa. Perhaps you should rest until the festivities begin."

That wasn't a request, which was good, as I wasn't in the mood to argue. "Yes, Uncle," I replied dutifully. "If you'd be so kind as to point the way to my rooms…"

Admiral Batch stepped forward, taking my free hand in his. "That will not be necessary, Your Excellency," he said to Uncle Wil. "If you would trust me with one of your greatest treasures, I would be honored to escort Miss Motti to her rooms."

"I do not mean to impose any further on your time, Admiral Batch," I pipped up.

"It is not an imposition. I believe your uncle and I had finished our discussion for the time being. My own quarters are located in the executive section as well. Please, allow me the pleasure of your company."

I glanced up at Uncle Wil, saw him nod fractionally, and knew I was sealed to my fate. I wasn't leaving this station until I'd played my part in whatever it was he had planned. Be that a few days… or even a few years.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Con wasn't back from his duties by the time Admiral Batch dropped me off at his quarters. Which was a blessing for once, as it would be unbecoming of me to invite an unmarried man into Con's rooms without him present, given that I was an unmarried woman. A protocol droid did not count as a chaperone, and with a forced regretful sigh, I stood in the open double doors of Con's suite as Grand Admiral Martio Batch retreated to the turbolift. His eyes held mine until the lift doors cut him from view.

I waited the obligatory minute or two before sighing for real, sliding down the doorframe until my knees were to my chest, my head pillowed on them. A formal dinner tonight. I was going to attend a formal dinner tonight on Con's arm, with the leering eyes of Major Fehr upon me if Uncle Wil hadn't gotten to the man already, the watchful gaze of Admiral Batch on my form, and whatever fresh hell Uncle Wil had concocted just waiting to be unleashed. Not to mention having to avoid whoever this Grand Admiral Thrawn person was.

What a stars-awful mess this was turning out to be.

"Miss Motti," came the tinny slightly annoying voice of the C-series protocol droid. I'd forgotten its designation already. "Are you well?"

"Do I look well to you?"

"Oh, you do not, Miss. I am contacting medical now—"

"No!" I nearly jumped to my feet. "No, I'm fine. Just emotionally not well. And that isn't an invitation to contact a psychiatrist, either. I'm… tired, is all."

"Then might I suggest a rest in your room, Miss Motti? Your gown has arrived already, so you have time for rest."

That had me clambering to my feet. "My gown? What are you babbling about? I just learned of this gathering about a half hour ago. How could I have a gown already?"

The droid took a step back, alarmed at how quickly I was on my feet again. "Master Motti commissioned it this morning from your scans in the database. I believe he was intending it to be a surprise."

I closed my eyes, took several breaths. It was so like Con to be that thoughtful, even if the gift wasn't exactly anything I would want. No doubt he anticipated surprising me with the whole evening. Now I got to disappoint him with the news that I already knew about the surprise. Though how in the world I was going to explain it without telling him about Major Fehr's advances or Cassio's rescue was beyond me. Neither was going to be a fun topic of conversation.

Before I could ponder further the escalating destruction of my life as I knew it, the lift doors parted once more and two stormtroopers walked into the foyer, coming to a sharp military halt before me.

"What?" I demanded, losing all sense of civility.

"We are assigned as your protection, Lady Motti," came the filtered male voice.

"It's Miss Motti," I corrected tartly. "Lady Motti is Conan's wife."

"Yes, Miss Motti. Please forgive the insult. It will not happen again."

I found myself nodding imperiously before I could catch myself. Great, all my old habits were returning en mass. Next thing I knew, I would be expecting the protocol droids to cut my foot into tiny pieces for me simply because I couldn't be bothered with it while eating.

"Wait," I said, stepping out of the door as the two white-armored people took up flanking positions to either side, rifles held ceremoniously across their chests. "Why are you talking to me? I mean, are you allowed to talk to me?"

"Yes, Miss Motti. Our orders are to protect you from all harm. To complete our objective, communication is necessary."

I crossed my arms over my chest, tapping my foot as I pondered that. "So you mean to tell me that certain orders require certain levels of silence or communication with your… objective?"

"Yes, Miss Motti."

Ah, so that's how it worked. "Say you were issued Order 6932A. What would that entail in regards to communication?"

The leftmost guard glanced over at the rightmost, found his counterpart doing the same thing. "Communication is not necessary to complete that objective."

"And what is the objective of Order 6932A?"

"To capture and detain the target with the least amount of damage to said target."

"Capture at all costs?"

"Yes, Miss Motti."

I didn't like the sound of that. "You mean to tell me that, say, if you were to be asked to capture me under Order 6932A, and the only way to get to me was through a crowd of people, you would use any means necessary?"

Again, they exchanged a glance before Lefty, the one doing the talking, answered. "Standard procedure would require the use of stun grenades to remove obstacles in the immediate area surrounding the target. We would then set weapons to stun to remove those still in our way. If, theoretically, you were the target of such an order and you resisted the order of arrest, the use of stun weapons would be permitted for your capture."

"And if I wasn't to be captured unharmed? If harm was allowed, what would happen to that crowd of people?"

"We would utilize the most immediate means of removing the obstacles in order to complete our mission objectives, Miss Motti."

I was suddenly glad that Con was still on duty, that Grand Admiral Batch and Uncle Wil were off plotting whatever it was they plotted. If they thought I had gone pale in the office, they would have positively thought I had died in this moment. Stars above! If fate had been different, if I'd thrown that stun grenade at the troopers chasing me when I was still trying to escape that riot, how many people would have died? Would they have known the difference, taken the time to identify a stun grenade versus something deadly in their zeal to complete their "objective" of their Order 6932A?

"You'd use deadly force on a crowd of innocents." I reiterated.

"Yes," Lefty answered without missing a beat. "The loss of life in that theoretical situation is not on our hands. The issuance of Order 6932 with deadly force authorized requires a statement to the target that we will proceed as ordered. If the target chooses to involve citizens of the Empire, each death is added to the crimes against said target."

"W… why are you telling me this?" I breathed, and then waved a hand to clear away my own question. "I mean why are you _allowed_ to tell me this? The trooper that escorted me here would not speak one word to me."

"Order four-zero-alpha."

I blinked at him a long moment before I realized I was going to have to ask him to explain. Apparently orders to answer questions did not give them liberty to anticipate the questions. I had to ask them.

"Which means?"

"Your safety is our most important objective, up to and including sacrificing our lives for yours if necessary. It is important that you understand this and follow our instructions. We are expected to communicate with you in that regard."

The part he wasn't saying was that there was an additional order buried in those words. I could see it, though, hear it as plainly as if he'd screamed it across the whole of the Death Star. He was to keep me from all harm he said, including harm I may unintentionally do to myself. Meaning he and his counterpart were now my new shadows, listening into every conversation, recording and reporting my every action to whomever issued their orders. Stopping me from going into places that I shouldn't go, or talking to people I shouldn't talk to, according to their officer's command.

In other words, they were my new sentient binders, tying my hands and my actions as easily as steel cuffs on my wrists.

I rubbed a hand over my face, trying not to scream in frustration. This! This was exactly why I had run away from the marriage to Count Averstan, why I had lived in near poverty and loved it. Poor people had no politics to dodge, never had to second-guess if the person being nice to them was really trying to be a friend or just lining you up as another stepping stool on their rise to greater power. Poor people never had to worry about becoming pretty birds in gilded cages, taken out only when their masters wanted amusement and locked up again after.

And tonight this pretty bird was expected to dance and smile and be the embodiment of everything a proper subservient well-bred woman was supposed to be. How did Uncle Wil put it? Ah, charm and grace and beauty. I was expected to be the living embodiment of these things tonight. I wonder how he'd react if I took something sharp and gave myself a nice scar on my face. Marred all that precious beauty he so cherished.

Glancing back at my new shadows, I knew even that option was taken from me. If I so much as had a hair out of place, I was fairly certain they'd haul me down to medical immediately. There was probably an Order for that, too.

"And who issued this order?" I seethed. "My brother? Uncle Wi—I mean Grand Moff Tarkin? Grand Admiral Batch?"

"No, Miss Motti. Our orders came directly from General Tagge."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks again for all who read, review, and send private messages! In this chapter, I allude to a past incident involving Leia Organa and Maximillian Veers. If you want to know what REALLY happened there, please read the story "Vader's Own" by **Malicean**. I think you'll love it. I know I do. :) Written with expressed permission of the author.

As usual, a huge thanks to **Hoplite39** for allowing me to include the troopers from "Loyal Solider of the Empire—Journal of an Imperial Stormtrooper." Another amazing read that you should try! :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

If it wasn't so out of fashion to claim psychic abilities, I would have asked to be tested for Force powers. This evening was going just as badly as I'd predicted.

I pondered this as I took my seat at the grand dinner table, the length of it hidden behind a table cloth so delicate and light it had to be spun of air. Plates and utensils of all types, shined to perfection, graced our seating, the Imperial crest engraved within them to perfection. Also as I had predicted. Stars forbid if any bureaucrat choose to show a spark of originality! It was all so perfectly… dull and sterile. Completely indistinguishable from any dinner I had attended on countless occasions. My only hope was that the wine was strong, that there would be a second cocktail hour after the dinner, and that I could find me a serving droid with a faulty memory that would bring me drink after drink after drink until either I died, or this evening started to make some sort of sense.

Either way, the pain would stop, right?

My chances of that happening were just as slim as my sudden manifestation of Force sensitivity. But then again, who in the right mind would what that? From what I'd heard, only the Emperor, himself, had the mental wherewithal to override the madness that came from touching the Force. Anyone with that cursed ability was rounded up and taken away—for their protection as well as the populace at large. It was a completely understandable solution, honestly. We'd all grown up watching the holo image of the Force-mad Mace Windu trying to murder the Emperor in cold blood.

Our poor Emperor. He'd been such a good-looking elderly gentleman, with such kind eyes and a smile that lit up a room, before being scarred by Mace Windu's attack. Lord Vader took the worst of that attack, from what I'd heard tell, which was why he was in that medical suit all the time. Sad, really. In my darker moments, I often wondered what Lord Vader had looked like before the attack. All we'd ever seen of him in the holos was his back and his hair. Which had been lovely, too. Again, such a shame.

These were the thoughts that chased around my mind as I started the night on Con's arm, making the obligatory first circuit through the cocktail hour. Then I was handed off to Uncle Wil, who went through the motions of introducing me to everyone. There was Moff Disra, Moff Thound, and Moff Pliiff, and their wives. Then Admiral Daala, and Admiral Ozzel, and Admiral Prittick. THEN there was Captain Drusan of the _Chimaera_, Captain Kand of the _Peremptory_, Captain Niriz of the _Admonitor_, Captain Piett of the _Executor_, Captain Ronoe of the _Dark Star_, Captain Needa of the _Avenger_…and each one of THOSE had their own entourage of underlings.

I'd never thought I would be so grateful for Uncle Wil's lofty superiority complex. It saved me from having to meet every single one of them. It saved _them_ from having to listen to _me_ prattle on with insipid things like "Oh, how charming!" or "Oh, how delightful you could join us! Uncle is such a kind man to allow you to escape your duties for this night. Thank you for coming!" until I thought my head was going to explode.

I was returned to Con in time for dinner to be served, and the conversation therein was just as devoid of substance as the past hour had been. My saving grace this time was the fact that I wasn't expected to participate. This was time for "officer small talk," for their own exchanging of pleasantries. They went on and on about what it was like in this sector of space, how many rebellions were put down, who had leave and which planet they intended to visit, who had the best ship...

Seated next to Conan near the head of the table, there was very little for me to do but smile. Smile, and barely taste any of my food. Women of worth and breeding were expected to eat like doves, pecking here and there at barely a mouthful of each item on the plate. The only thing that both men and women had in common when dining was that their mouths were never to be too full to answer a question or give commentary when it was due. No bite larger than could be wedged beneath a tongue went into anyone's mouth.

It made me long for Sholt's Cantina again back on Alderaan and a thick brexi burger just dripping with sauce and grease. Taking mouthfuls so large that one could barely close their lips around it to chew…

Uncle Wil sat at the head of the table, then Conan to his right and Cassio to his left as was their right as his second and third officers. I was nestled between Conan and Grand Admiral Batch. And across from me was my only alleviation from this boredom. Admiral Natasi Daala was a vision I just couldn't keep my eyes from. For one, she was absolutely lovely. For another, she was a woman bearing an Admiral's rank. She, above anyone else, could float between the two segregated groups of conversation.

And she did so with ease, engaging me in conversation when it was clear that I was too far away from the wives of the Moffs.

"What do you think of this magnificent station, Miss Motti?" she asked, surprising everyone into silence.

In that moment, I loved her. Loved her brash boldness and the cold calculating glint in her steely eyes.

"It is very impressive," I said as was expected of me, smiling. "It must be quite an undertaking to manage."

Again, it was the proper thing to say, passing the conversation back to Conan or Uncle WIl, or even Cassio.

"I suppose it is," Natasi continued, almost sounding bored. "But I wasn't asking how anyone else managed the station. I was asking how you found it."

A dangerous political opening. So much so that Con kicked my foot gently under the table. So much so that Cassio had even turned his interest towards the conversation. Cassio Tagge, who was known as the 'Unpolitical General' by his less than kind compatriots, who had spent the entirety of dinner focused solely on the course before him, glanced up at me. A warning look in his eyes. He hated politics as much as I did. Only he was in a position to utterly ignore them, both by virtue of his rank, his military successes, and his gender.

I had none of that.

The socially acceptable thing to do would be to titter out a vapid laugh behind my hand, thank Natasi for making me feel part of the conversation, and either direct it to something inane like flowers or the ever overused toast to the health of the Emperor. That would be the safe thing to do, to convince her and everyone present that I really was little more than arm decoration. But something in those eyes challenged me, something that saw straight through my ruse to the utter disgust I felt at this whole sham of civility.

I picked up my wine, being so gouache as to actually lean back and let my back touch the back of my chair… and met her challenge. "Given all I've seen of it is from the schematics and maps available in the archive, I must say that it's truly a remarkable and frightening piece of machinery."

Natasi picked up her wine as well, and mirrored my pose. "Interesting use of the term 'machinery.'"

"Isn't it? And yet I find the description apt. It is nothing more than steel and mechanisms at its base levels. It's what it represents that truly matters."

"My sister speaks the purest of truths. It represents peace and security for the Empire," Con cut in, lifting his glass as well. Slanting his own warning look in my direction. "To the glory of the Emperor. May he reign forever."

There was a lifting of glasses all around, a chorus echoing the last sentence. Natasi's eyes never left mine, and mine never wavered.

"You've yet to tour this mechanism of peace and security?" she continued, as if Conan hadn't tried to derail this whole topic.

"Not at as of yet," I replied. "My arrival on the station was rather sudden."

"I have heard as much," Natasi smiled, that expression implying she knew every detail of my detainment. A smile that grew when Con went slightly pink around the collar. "Your efforts to promote peaceful welfare on rebellious planets such as Alderaan have not gone unnoticed by the Admiralty. I admit to a certain degree of curiosity and pleasure at finally meeting you face to face."

I kept my expression carefully neutral. So _that_ was the story Conan was telling everyone? I had gone off on a diplomatic foray across the galaxy, postponing my own marriage to Count Averstan in the name of Intergalactic Imperial Peace? Even I had to admit that it sounded better than 'ran away from a horrible prospect of marriage.'

I nodded my head in a formal acknowledgement of her claim. "We all do what we must to ensure peace and happiness. I think my accomplishments pale in comparison to your own, Admiral."

"My sister's lack of familiarity with this station will be corrected shortly," Con added, wiping his mouth with his napkin, hiding the grimace of anger at Daala for not allowing him to change the topic. "Grand Admiral Batch, himself, has offered to give her a tour of the station."

"I have," Batch replied, smiling gently in my direction. "Miss Motti has graciously accepted my offer. I can only hope I can keep up with the many questions she will ask. Miss Motti, if you don't mind me saying, has the most inquisitive and intelligent mind."

"She is challenging," Con put in, turning his words into a warning and curse, all wrapped up in a compliment. "She is a Motti through and through."

"I am merely who I was born to be," I retorted with one of my patented dazzling smiles. "Nothing more, nothing less."

Natasi's smile took on a slight tinge of real amusement, obviously not missing the tete-a-tete between Con and I. "I think you sell yourself short, Miss Motti. I sit behind a fleet of Star Destroyers. You stand side by side with those that would rip out your heart and eat it. Tell me who is the braver?"

The wives at the table made appropriately upset sounds at so vulgar an image as cannibalism being spoken at the dinner table. As if these women were innocent of the cold-blooded actions of their husbands, or the plots that they, themselves, hatched for their own amusement. But it was their way of telling Daala that she was being both rude and uncouth. Though by the way they treated her in the cocktail hour, shunning her and her mannish uniform, their dislike of her was already known. I bit back another sigh.

This was exactly why I had run away. Looking at those women was like looking at my own impending future if I married Count Averstan. Would I truly become as spiteful and petty as they? Would a cold marriage finally erode the last of my moral center until all I wanted was someone to numb the pain?

I glanced at Admiral Natasi Daala from beneath my eyelashes, saw her watching me with unabashed boldness. She was proof that a different future was out there. She wore the dislike of these women as if it were another medal to pin on her chest.

"No one doubts the bravery of either of you, Admiral," Grand Admiral Batch said, cutting through the sudden tension at the table. "As the lovely Miss Motti has put it, we all do what we can for the Empire. Fear inspiring mechanisms of war can only physically ensure the peace of our august Emperor. It takes heart and courage, the grace to see each member of the Empire as an individual, that can turn the desire for peace into a reality. For that, Miss Motti, and for your bravery to face anger with gentle grace, every one of us at this table owes you their lives. We bring the peace, yet you show us why we do what we do."

"I could not agree more," Uncle Wil put in, lifting his glass again. "To Admiral Daala and my treasured niece, Jentessa. Two warriors in their own right, two bringers of peace. Let us count our blessings to share their company on this night."

More glasses raised, more murmurs of agreement and fake smiles in my direction. Those I could ignore, had spent a life time learning to ignore. What I couldn't ignore in that moment was the way Uncle's eyes glittered when he made his little speech, the way they shifted between two people at the table—and one wasn't me. One was Admiral Daala, and the other was Grand Admiral Batch. Or more to the point, the way Batch was staring intently at me.

* * *

"I don't want you interacting with Admiral Daala anymore than you have to," Con instructed, swirling me across the floor as we danced.

The party had left the dining hall shortly after dinner, gathering in the large principle observation deck. Before us stretched a huge transparisteel viewport, easily the size of a capital ship. Nothing but stars filled that port, so beautiful as they glittered against the backdrop of black space. It was so impressive, so… overpowering… that the room needed little else in the ways of decorations. Some colorful banners upon the walls in this house's color or that, a few pots of flowers strategically placed to soften the military coldness of the room, and that was about it. And a small stage, upon which several uniformed men played elegant music on their instruments for which to dance.

I had to wonder just how much effort went into ensuring that none of the Star Destroyers and capitol ships and yachts ever touched that view of the stars. I wasn't completely blind to the fact that more Fleet power was present at the Death Star than I had ever heard of at a non-war-related event.

Further proof that Uncle Wil was up to something, that I was nothing more than a smokescreen.

Uncle Wil had the right of the first dance, and given that the dinner was supposedly in my honor, I was to dance with him. After that, he had passed me along to Grand Admiral Batch. Which wasn't a surprise at all. I knew now, at least in part, what Uncle wanted with me. Marriage to a Grand Admiral, by Uncle's own arrangement, would further promote House Tarkin in the eyes of the Imperial Court. There were only twelve Grand Admirals in all of the Empire, after all. Tying one of those twelve to a house through marriage guaranteed prestige and wealth. Not to mention choice assignments and quick promotions for military members of that family.

After that dance, I was passed to Con, as my brother. But only after I promised the next two dances to Batch.

I kept my smile in place. "I don't see the harm in idle conversation, Con. Remember, I was the one that didn't want to come here in the first place."

His hand tightened a bit on my waist, a little too tight. "She's dangerous, Tessa, very dangerous. You don't want to become tangled in her web."

"As opposed to being tangled in yours, or Uncle Wil's?"

His smile stayed in place, too, though I had a feeling that was through real effort. "Don't count on your gender as an exclusion to her plots. She's an Admiral just as I am, with ambition to spare. If lopping your head off and putting it at the feet of Lord Vader would earn her further power, she'd do it in a blink. I'm trying to save you from heartbreak."

"If you wanted to spare me all this, then why did you bring me here? I was happy on Alderaan."

"Your life was in danger on Alderaan," he countered.

I lifted an eyebrow before I caught myself. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing, Tessa. Forget I said anything."

"Kind of hard now that you've said it. Con, I have friends on that planet. If you know something that could harm them, you have to tell me."

"I don't know anything for certain. Only that the Emperor is looking at that planet with disfavor. The sector's representative is making some very unpopular motions in the Senate. The further you are from there, the safer you will be."

"Senator Leia Organa?" I gave a ladylike snort. "That doesn't surprise me. She was always the rebellious type. Do you remember that event in the Aldraig System almost eight years ago? The festive celebration of Tree-something-or-other that all in our social class were expected to attend? She had the temerity to be involved in that _incident_ regarding Siofra Hevgon and General Veers. I thought Domina Tagge was going to have a heart attack, so was so pleased to have something to gossip about. So honestly, it doesn't surprise me that she'd make unpopular and radical decisions. She's always been too free with her time and opinions. "

Con's face darkened as the memory returned to him. Ever since that night in question, when Prince Bail Organa had had 'civilized words' with the then Colonel Veers regarding the incident, my brother had had it out for the other man. There had been nothing concrete to claim that Veers had an "interest" in young ladies, to put it politely. Indeed, there wasn't anything to talk about save for the fact that Miss Hevgon had gone dashing across the ballroom as politely as possible, obviously upset. Princess Organa had followed just as quickly. And then later on there was that conversation between Prince Organa and Veers.

It added up to a whole lot of nothing by anyone's standards. Veers and His Highness could have been discussing the color of the whiskey in their glasses for all anyone knew. But thanks to rumor-mongers like that harpy Domina, Con had always glared at Veers as if he were scum beneath his boots. Always assumed the worst of the man.

"Con, let it go. We were children. Years have passed since then."

"Apparently not enough to keep Senator Organa's tongue firmly behind her teeth. Her latest speech has caused no less than three systems to pull away from lucrative trade agreements with Alderaan, Tessa. Alderaan is shedding allies and gaining enemies at a rapid pace."

I couldn't help but blink at him in a sort of shock, a frightening thought occurring to me. "Do you think that Alderaan will go into open rebellion like Contruum?"

"I don't know, Tessa. I really don't know. Which is why I wanted you here with me."

Alderaan… in open rebellion? The notion was ludicrous! Alderaan was peaceful, it's people believing in philosophies of passive resistance. Even the riot I'd been caught in was touched off by a visiting Rodian. No self-respecting citizen of Alderaan would so much as raise their voice, nevertheless a weapon! And even if they wished to rebel, they had nothing in which to defend themselves. Contruum at least had had the shipping yards, the mining facilities… its population was centered in specific regions so it was easy to move people about.

Alderaan had no weapons, no fleet… its peoples used the entirety of the planet for life.

It was just… No, there was no way to describe how impossible a rebellion on Alderaan sounded.

"Again, I don't know," Con murmured softly. "I'm telling you as much as I can. So please, Tessa, don't be so difficult. Enjoy the party and the knowledge that you are safe here."

That brought me back to the topic at hand. "Safe? Con, I don't know if you missed it, but I think I'm only allowed to stay here until Admiral Batch proposes."

That caused him to lift an eyebrow this time... in pleasant surprise! "Do you think he will?"

I closed my eyes and my mouth against what I was thinking, what I wanted to say in response to that. "Con…"

"It would be a good match, Tessa. I can see why Uncle has suggested such a thing."

Suggested? More like politically maneuvered. It wouldn't have surprised me at this point if Uncle Wil hadn't told Major Fehr to go at me, arranging for Con to be out on duty and for Cassio to show up just in time to save me. Knowing that Cassio would bring me straight to my Uncle's office for safe keeping!

"What about Count Averstan?" I quipped. "He was the 'best match' for me not more than a month ago."

Con laughed derisively. "What is a lowly Count of some planet in comparison to a Grand Admiral? Tessa, it's more than father and I could have dreamed possible. It's what we both want for you."

Yes, it was what _they _wanted for me. But what about what _I_ wanted?


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews, follows, favorites and private messages. The Thrawn elements in this chapter are there at a request from a dear friend... and well... because I'm just a fangirl. It happens. We always write what we love most.

Thanks again to Malicean and Hoplite39 for allowing me to reference their work in this story. Please go and read their stories. Absolutely worth the time!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

"Your pardon, Admiral Motti," Cassio said, stepping up to us on the dance floor. "I'm afraid I must interrupt your evening. There is a situation that requires your personal attention."

For the second time in my life, I found myself thrilled to my toes at Cassio's presence. After Con had practically started to glow at the prospect of my marriage to a Grand Admiral, or more to the point, at the prospects of how his own career would skyrocket with his baby sister married to a Grand Admiral, the conversation had dropped altogether. It was as if the conversation about Organa and Daala had never occurred in the first place, our paces in perfect concert with the other dancers sharing this waltz. Only he was no longer dancing with me, exactly. He was dancing with the bright future he saw ahead for us.

Inside his eyes, I saw plans within plans twisting and forming. Inside my own, I was staring down a possible future of isolation, boredom, and oppression. I honestly had to wonder if throwing myself out into space wouldn't be a kinder fate…

So Cassio's appearance was, much like when he saved me from Major Fehr, the most welcoming sight I had laid eyes on since Alderaan.

"It can wait," Con threw at him without missing a beat, without bothering to look up at the man.

"I'm afraid it can't, Admiral."

"Send Major Fehr," Con snapped irritably, trying to maneuver us away so he could continue dancing. "That is what an adjutant is for. As you can see here, I am trying to enjoy an evening with my sister."

I glanced at Cassio again, saw something on his face that I didn't like. Something that was all determined military and nothing of the pleasant young man I'd known at school. Certainly nothing of the man that had tenderly held me in the turbolift, making me laugh despite the obvious embarrassment and fear of the situation. This was General Tagge addressing Admiral Motti on formal Imperial business, not Cassio trying to talk to Conan.

Something was up… something not in the plans for tonight.

"Con," I began gently, carefully. "Perhaps it would be best if you attended to the problem. I am feeling quite fatigued from all the dancing and could use a rest…"

"I'm afraid I must insist," Cassio continued on the heels of my words, stepping right into the path of our waltz. He went so far as to lay a hand on Con's arm and lean in to whisper. "A transmission marked urgent has arrived for you from the planet Risban."

That got Con's attention. So much so that he stopped dancing immediately, taking my hand and putting it on Cassio's. "I would take it as a great honor if you would escort my sister back to Admiral Batch's side."

It wasn't a request. And no sooner had Cassio's fingers curled over mine that Con was moving. He, too, seemed to shed the skin of the adoring brother I knew, putting on the invisible armor of command that made him so formidable. A sharp snap of his fingers had Major Fehr peeling off from the wall he'd been standing against, moving to join Con in the turbolift. I couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through me, part fear and part relief, as the lift doors closed and took Fehr away.

The man had been staring at me ever since the dancing began, and with more interest than was polite. Even Cassio seemed to notice the lingering leer of the other man, taking a step forward and slightly blocking me from view. There was a set to Cassio's shoulders that I found both comforting and surprising. He was a Tagge after all. What did he care if some Motti woman got in trouble with the wrong crowd?

The moment I thought it, I knew I was wrong. No, more than wrong. I was damn near unkind. Especially when Cassio made some sort of gesture with his free hand, and two stormtroopers I hadn't even realized were at the party likewise peeled from their shadowy stances against the wall and took the next lift.

It should have been a comforting sight. Instead, it reminded me just how much I didn't know about the politics surrounding this station.

"It seems I have robbed you of your dance companion, Miss Motti," Cassio began, turning back to me. "Allow me to make it up to you."

There was very little I could do in that moment but accept, what with all eyes now turning towards us. We were standing in the middle of the dance floor, motionless in the sea of waltzes like a jetty breaking the flow of water. Walking away from him now would send ripples through that water, negative ripples where Cassio's reputation was concerned. I couldn't have that.

When his hand touched my waist, his other still clasping my fingers, I felt a thrill of warmth spread through me. Whatever I faced here on this station, whatever uncertainty loomed in my bleak future, I knew deep down that Cassio would never hurt me.

I was safe with him in a way that I had never felt with anyone else. And stars help me, it was really nice.

"I trust the evening has gone well?" He asked, swirling us back into step with everyone else.

I couldn't help but glance at the turbolift, feeling a small chill run through me. Too many planets were being discussed in negative ways tonight. First Alderaan, and then Contruum, and now Risban… There were always rumors about a real, true, organized rebellion against our wonderful Emperor, but that's all they've always been—rumors. Was I hearing concrete proof that there was an open rebellion, one that that the media had been forbidden to discuss?

If that was true, did that mean Leia was part of it? Was she really that lost in her own self-righteousness to act so radically?

"Yes," I tore my eyes away from that lift, splashing a smile back on my face. "The evening is wonderful, thank you for asking."

Cassio chuckled. "Okay, Tessa. Now that you've told me what you're supposed to tell me, how are you really doing?"

"Bored," I laughed softly, strained. "So very bored and tired.. and afraid. I won't ask you what that thing with Con was all about. I know better than to do that. It's just that… well, I've heard rumors."

"There are always rumors, Tessa," he said just as softly. "And this is a military installation. You are going to hear all manner of things that may sound frightening until they are understood. You… you can always come to me with any questions."

I glanced up at him, saw him look away with the faintest blush on his cheeks. Was he… was Cassio Tagge _flirting_ with me? He had done so on numerous occasions back when we were kids, I realized. But I had often thought his attentions merely a ploy by Domina in one of her many horrific games. The only one she hadn't been able to ensnare in her 'entertainments' had been, ironically enough, Leia Organa. More times than not, Leia had turned the game on Domina, with far reaching disastrous consequences. Was it any wonder that Domina had started that vicious rumor about her and Veers?

I gave myself a mental shake, trying not to let everything circle back to Leia and Alderaan and the growing dread in the pit of my stomach. My fingers rested more firmly on his shoulder, my steps just a tad closer to his. And when I smiled this time, there was a hint of true warmth in it.

"I know, Cassio," I said, bringing his attention back to my face. "You don't know how much that means to me, truly and sincerely. I'm alone here, without allies and companions. Even the droid that serve as my lady's maid isn't mine. But please, do not do anything that could jeopardize yourself on my account."

"Like, perhaps, monopolizing your time for another dance?"

I threw another look at the lift doors. "Won't Con return soon? He would have fits to know that I blew off Grand Admiral Batch to dance with you."

"Motti will be busy trying to decrypt that message for some time. Besides, the Grand Admiral can spare you for a moment longer."

I blinked at him, really blinked in surprise when I realized what he was saying. "You encrypted it on purpose, didn't you? There was no real message from Risban, was there?"

"Oh, there was a message for him. Urgent as I have stated. However, I used my best judgment regarding just how urgent such a message was. Without knowing how long it would take Motti to retrieve the message, I added a few layers of station security to ensure only his eyes could view it."

"Leaving you free to monopolize my time?"

His smile was genuine. "I would prefer if you called our time together as reuniting old friends."

With effort, I didn't glance in Batch's direction. No doubt he was waiting for me, waiting at Uncle Wil's urging. I shouldn't waste his time like this… and yet… and yet… Was it truly that wrong of me to steal a few more precious moments to myself with someone I could actually talk to?

It was in that moment that I noticed our waltz had taken us to the outer ring of dancers and as far away from the main gathering as the dance floor would allow. If I wanted to, I could reach out and brush my fingertips against the cool transparisteel window, the only thing separating me from the stars. Cassio glanced down at me, that smile so inviting… so real. It softened his stern face somewhat, and lent him that charming-boyish look that had made many a girl's heart flitter.

Oh stars, what was I about to do?

I got my answer when Moff Thound and his wife crossed between us and the rest of the dancers, that ridiculously massive silver ball gown she wore—complete with a feather headdress that would seem outlandish even back home in the Imperial Court—nearly obscuring us from view. That's when Cassio's hand left my waist, his other hand tugging me rapidly towards the viewport… and the cleverly concealed door near its edge.

I was laughing as he closed the door, unable to believe that an Imperial General had just helped me sneak out of a dinner party in my own honor, right under the watchful eyes of a Grand Moff and a Grand Admiral. The notion was just too ludicrous… and exhilarating!

"You and I are going to pay for this," I said, brushing the laughter-born tears from my lashes. "Uncle Wil and Admiral Batch are going to positively turn purple with anger."

Cassio laughed, too, leaning against the door and crossing his arms over his chest. "I seem to recall a young girl many years ago that delighted in escaping formal events at school, often dragging her companions along for the adventure. Tell me that you did not wish to escape tonight, and I'll gladly return you to the gathering."

"Over my dead body," I mock-snapped. "How do you and Con do this all the time? Attend functions like this without wanting to space yourself?"

His smile softened as he pushed off the door. "Discipline… and treating these dinners like any other assignment. At its heart, these events are nothing more than a duty aimed at future promotion. Only in this instance, you are permitted to speak freely while on duty."

I watched him walk towards me, his shadow cast larger than life in the muted lights. We were in an art gallery of some kind. Well, it was more like a private collection than a gallery. All sorts of art from nearly every corner of the galaxy seemed to be represented, though most appeared to be human in creation. Not that I was particularly versed in art, myself. But I recognized some of the styles from the holonet news. These pieces appeared to be done in the current medium favored by the Emperor—which meant they were all of human origin.

That was probably the number one thing I didn't like about the Empire: the outright segregation of species. I'd met some wonderful aliens that didn't deserve to be oppressed. Idly, I wondered what Admiral Daala thought of it all. Surely she'd met thousands of aliens in her duties to the Imperial Fleet…though maybe that wasn't the best topic. If she'd met thousands, then it was likely that she had to help oppress a bunch of them. All because she wore that uniform.

"Thank the stars I'm not military," I said honestly, to myself and in answer to his question. "I would find myself in so much trouble if given the freedom to state what's on my mind."

"Like you are doing now?"

I shrugged a shoulder, glancing over at him playfully. "You were the one that asked for honesty."

He laughed again. "How in the galaxy are you a Motti, Tessa? I thought your kind lived for the politics."

"The same could be said about you Tagges," I replied, walking through the tiny maze of sculptures, watching him mirror me. Art and manners and the flickering shadows the only things separating us. "Domina is still the lead rumor-monger among our social class, near as I can tell."

"And Conan is still the most ambitious, regardless of who he steps on to reach his goal."

I smirked. "I am not my brother, nor do I share his goals."

"What a coincidence. I am not Domina, nor do I share her goals."

"I should hope not," I quipped, taking a sharp turn at random, forcing him to chase after me quickly if he didn't want to lose me. "There is already one woman in uniform on this station and I happen to like her quite a bit. I think she'd be angry if you were to reveal yourself as a woman after all this time and steal her thunder."

He barked out a laugh at that. A real laugh, not one timed or measured for greatest or mild effect. Just a real laugh. And I couldn't believe I was laughing with him, too. Who would have thought that I'd find the most agreeable company in this entire station at the side of a Tagge? He caught up to me, surprising me by simply walking through a holographic painting. Surprising me even more by taking my hand, by letting the playfulness vanish and something deep and intense warming his eyes.

"You haven't changed at bit since school, have you, Jentessa Motti."

My breath caught slightly as he stepped closer, his cologne so faint and yet deliciously appropriate. "Nor have you, Cassio Tagge. We've grown older, and I would like to hope wiser, but at our core, we are the same people. And for that, I'm grateful."

Oh stars, he was going to kiss me, wasn't he? And I wanted him to! A Tagge!

His fingers, entwined with mine, pulled me forward that last step. His head tilted down, mine tilting up—

—and his comlink trilled so loudly we both jumped in alarm.

Cassio's lips compressed in a thin line, staring at the offending thing on his belt for a long moment. Sighing, he let go of my hand. "I'm sorry, Tessa."

"No, don't be," I said quickly, rising on tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. "This is who you are. Go, and handle your duties. I'll wait here."

With one last regretful look my way, he pulled the thing from his belt and thumbed it on. "This is Tagge," he nearly growled, striding with heavy purpose towards the door. "This had better be worth my time…"

* * *

I tried very hard not to feel guilty. First at vanishing like I did with Cassio, probably sending the entire party into an uproar. A polite uproar, I might add. Uncle Wil would not upset his guests for anything that would cast him in a negative light. Twice I had to stop myself from rushing to that door, trying to find a reason to explain where I had gone and how I was now without escort. Twice my own pride stopped that from happening. I was not some pet on a leash to be called to perform tricks and then sent away when I no longer amused.

Secondly for what had nearly happened between Cassio and I. It had nothing to do with his being a Tagge and I being a Motti this time. It had everything to do with the fact that I was pretty much already married. At least in Uncle Wil's eyes. And unfortunately for me, whatever Uncle Wil saw as a reality usually _became_ the reality. In his eyes, I was officially Lady Jentessa Amelie Batch nee Motti. All that remained was for Uncle Wil and Martio to agree to a dowry price and political favors, sign the contracts, and bam! I was sold.

That thought, more than anything else, kept me determined to stay in that hidden art gallery until I damn near died. Or until I could reign in my anger. The thought, the very notion, that I was already wed against my will was... was… was completely out of my hands. If I hadn't been promised in marriage to Batch, then it would have been marriage to Averstan. And if not Averstan, then it would be to whoever happened to give the largest political advantage to the family. It was my fate, my duty. My destiny to be used as a pawn between powerful men.

It was enough to make me want to break something, a lot of somethings actually.

Yet even that was denied me.

I should be counting my lucky stars that I'd married a Grand Admiral, I thought with a frustrated sigh of resignation, turning back to the artwork. Someone that would be gone on missions for the better part of our marriage. Someone that wouldn't be around to micromanage everything, or make me feel like the living trophy I was. Eventually I could hire servants that were loyal to me, maybe even friends. And surely Batch had money. Lots of it. I could do anything while he was on assignment, couldn't I? Travel the galaxy with my friends… maybe open some art museums like this? All in all, it wasn't the worst possible future…

The pep talk wasn't working, and no matter which way I spun it, I was still furious.

I stopped before a painting that I knew well, an Alderaanian painting. The Truth in the Petal, it was called. It portrayed a woman with her back to the viewer, her face obscured, wearing a white lace gown with an elaborate flowing train. Red roses and black orchids grew on either side of the path she walked, making her seem to glow against all that darkness. And if one looked closely enough, they'd realize that her gown wasn't made of white lace at all. It was made of the flower known as star lace. A native flower found naturally only on Alderaan.

A flower I would miss terribly, because of Con and Martio and Uncle Wil had their way, I would never set foot on that planet again.

It was all Leia's fault! This whole frustratingly hopeless situation! If she had kept that blasted mouth of hers shut, Con would have never pulled me away from Alderaan. Treaties would never have been abandoned, and I wouldn't be sitting on a battle station, frightened out of my wits that something bad was going to happen to that planet, that I would be pushed into a loveless marriage maybe before this very night was through!

"What does the painting tell you?"

I started in surprise, whirling about. There wasn't time to cover my shock, to plaster a layer of fake civility over the boiling anger that filled my eyes. I thought I was alone! Who would dare keep to the shadows of this place, witnessing a very near kiss between me and Cassio. My heart leapt at that last thought, fear chasing away most of my indignant rage. Oh stars, what had this man seen? What did he know?

"Apologies," I began, grasping desperately for a way to smooth out this tangle. "I thought I was the only one in the room—"

I stopped short as my eyes touched upon my latest companion. Of all the people I wasn't supposed to talk to, it had to be him. Pale blue skin stood out starkly against the crisp white Grand Admiral's uniform. Blue-black hair shimmered faintly in the muted lights of the gallery, cut in that short military style that kept it from his collar. And eyes, glowing red eyes without pupil or iris, peered curiously down at me from a lean, handsome face.

"Grand Admiral Thrawn," I said, dipping into a deep curtsey to hide my momentary rudeness. "Forgive my impertinence. The hour is late and I am most fatigued."

The way he smiled slightly in return, the bow he executed in response to my formal acknowledgement of his rank, spoke volumes. He didn't believe my cover story for a second. In fact, his return bow was just slightly too short, expressing his displeasure at my fake courtesies. Almost as if he'd played the great Game of Houses all his life.

A bead of sweat trickled between my shoulderblades. This wasn't going to end well.

"Of course," He extended a hand to help me rise. "My apologies for disturbing you, Miss Motti. Like yourself, I had presumed myself alone in the gallery this evening."

"One is never alone in Empire, my lord," I gave the expected response. "May I ask what brought you to this place? The gala is in full swing at this moment if you wish to speak with anyone of import."

The moment I said it, I knew it was wrong. It was the polite thing to say, to give him an out if he did not wish my company. But at the same time he wasn't human, and I suspect speaking with Uncle Wil or Con or any of the other xenophobic officers out there on the observation deck would have been most uncomfortable for him.

"I have spoken with those that I need to already, thank you."

"Then you are in fine company," I couldn't help but state, turning back to the painting. "So have I."

It was a clear dismissal, stating plain as day that I wished to be left alone. For whatever reason, he chose to ignore it.

"And yet you are the guest of honor, Miss," he continued in that smoothly modulated voice. "I am certain others are clamoring for your attention."

"Then let them clamor," I said with a shrug, tired of it all. Bone weary with the thoughts of arranged marriages and politics and things so desperately out of my control. "I am the guest of honor. I will make my appearance when I feel I should."

"Is that what the painting shows you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The painting," he continued, stepping up beside me. "I believe it is called The Truth in the Petal. One of the last works created by Glornian Soreet before his untimely death. I have heard it called one of the treasures of the Known Galaxy. As you can see here, the artist endeavored to capture the exact moment before innocence was forever lost."

I stared at the painting, wondering how in the Empire he had gained that insight from a woman's back and a dress made of flowers.

"Observe," he continued, his fingertips hovering just above its textured surface. "The woman's face is hidden from us, her posture tense at certain places and loose at others, giving us the sense that she has made peace with a decision heretofore outside of her comfort levels. Her hand, here, hovers above the darker flowers, unable to let herself touch what is inappropriate, and yet drawn to it regardless. And here, her other hand is clutching to the skirt of petals, clinging to the last vestiges of life as she knows it before it is irrevocably changed."

I was glad my eyes were locked to the artwork. I didn't want him to see how much his words had affected me. "I don't see any of that," I said, voice tight. "I see someone who is trapped by traditions not of her own making. A prisoner staring at what she wants most and yet cannot have."

"That is one interpretation of it," he continued. "Though I doubt Mr. Soreet had that in mind when he painted it. There is freedom in this painting, in the languid grace of the brush strokes. This woman, whomever she may have been, was cherished by him in some form. He painted her spirit, her freedom and strength to choose the path most often not taken."

I couldn't look at it anymore, seeing too much of myself in the artwork. He was wrong. He had to be. There was no freedom to be found in the decisions I faced. It was marry Count Averstan and have a cold marriage forever, or marry this Grand Admiral Batch and deal with being alone forever while he gallivanted off across the universe in the name of the Emperor.

While I was kept behind glass, a frozen flower like the star laces of this woman's gown. Pretty and useless.

"Why are you here?" I blurted out.

His smile, much like Cassio's, took on a real quality at my brutal use of truth over sweet veiled words of politics. "I am here for much the same reason as you are, Miss Motti. I am following my orders."

"Your orders tell you to linger in hidden art galleries?"

"I was ordered to attend this festive event," he made a languid gesture in the air, encompassing more than just the gallery. "To enjoy the most precious and wonderful gifts the Empire has to offer."

His tone, though perfectly pitched, let me know he thought of this travesty of time the same way I did.

"So you are a prisoner, too," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "Bound by duty to waste time when there are other things you should be doing."

"I prefer to think of it as a—"

"If you call this a 'duty aimed at gaining further promotion', I will walk out that door and never speak to you again. I have heard enough of what this gala truly represents."

He lifted an eyebrow, something of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I was going to say that I prefer to think of this as a chance to learn about and form new acquaintances. As we are doing now."

I blushed slightly, feeling silly for interrupting him. For being mad at him at all. None of this was his fault. And knowing someone else was just as trapped into this event _did_ make me feel better. Selfish, yes. But it was the truth.

"Apologies again, Grand Admiral," I said, meaning it this time. "I am horribly rude tonight."

"I see nothing of rudeness in the truth. Though I do confess to an amount of curiosity at what has you so upset."

I turned away from the painting, taking a few steps away. Surprised when he fell into step beside me. Not as Cassio had, keeping the statues between us for the sake of propriety. He was literally right next to me. Half a step to the left and my shoulder would brush his.

"Family ties," I said at last, being as honest as I could with someone I did not know. Con's warning about ambition and admirals still rang in my ears. "Nothing is more complicated than family."

"Understandable."

I lifted an eyebrow this time. "Is it?"

"You are a Motti," he said easily. "Your brother is an Admiral. Your Uncle is a Grand Moff. I imagine that the ties, as you call them, are a masterwork of knots."

"You sound like you know more than you are saying," I said as we stopped before another painting, this one an abstract of some kind. "Though I suppose that goes with the uniform, doesn't it?"

"I said before that I am curious about a great many things. One must always learn what they can of the workings of the great families, if one wants to survive in Imperial politics for very long."

"So this conversation is merely a learning experience for you?"

"Partially. Would it make you feel better if I said it was a particularly enjoyable one?"

"It would," I said, letting a corner of my lips pop in a slight smile. "If I were to believe you, that is. You are part of the Admiralty. Moreover, I was told not to speak with you at all. They say you are a very dangerous man, Grand Admiral Thrawn."

He shrugged, hands folded behind his back. Eyes on the painting. "I suppose that goes with the uniform, doesn't it?"

I laughed. I couldn't help it. "You are more than you seem, my lord. I find it very hard to believe that a man that can discern so much insight into an artist by glimpsing one of his paintings fell so hard in the games of the Imperial Court."

He glanced at me, an odd glitter to his eyes that had me forgetting how to breathe for a moment. "Even the best strategists often face defeat when presented with overwhelming odds."

"Is that what happened to you?" I asked boldly, simply. "You were ganged up on by the other lords and ladies trying to curry favor with the Emperor?"

"For someone that should not be speaking with me, you ask very audacious questions, Miss Motti."

This time I shrugged my shoulders. "When—not if—Uncle learns of this conversation, I shall face the whirlwind of his anger. Even if I was guilty of only speaking one word to you alone, I will be condemned. I would like to have something worthy to remember for my pains."

"Yes," he answered, watching me with those unsettling eyes. "That is the simplified, if correct, answer to your question."

I tapped my foot a moment, and then crossed my arms over my chest. "What is the full answer? You see, I have told you volumes about myself in this conversation. More than I would have normally, given my upset with certain situations. Yet I know nothing about you, including the answer to my question. I do not believe you."

His lip twitched in faint amusement. "So this conversation is merely a learning experience for you?"

I gave him a dazzling smile in return. "Partially. Would it make you feel better if I said it was a particularly enjoyable one?"

He chuckled at that. "Very well. The complicated answer is yes and no. Yes, others moved against me. And no, I was not banished as the galaxy believes. Do you truly want to know why?"

I held up a hand, forestalling him. "No. It's secrets like that, that have drawn me back to this place. It's enough to know I was right. My curiosity will just have to remain unfulfilled."

He stepped forward, taking my hand in his and pressing it to his lips once again. "You, Miss Motti, are more than you seem."

"I am but a pretty bird in a glass cage, who happens to be sharing hers with a dangerous bird of prey for the moment," I said, pleased that I held his gaze. I had a feeling very few officers in the entire fleet could claim as much. "If there was a way that I could set you free, I would. In payment for making this night marginable tolerable."

He lifted an eyebrow again, his hand still holding mine. "There is a way, if you are brave enough, Miss Motti. I believe the music has stopped, and your escorts will be looking for you very soon. In fact, there are mere seconds before that door will open and reveal us to the party."

I finally got what he was hinting at, and my eyes widened. If Uncle caught me like this, in this compromising situation with an alien I was warned not to speak with, his anger would be terrible. So much so that he would throw the already 'supposedly' disgraced Admiral off his station that very moment. And I? I suppose I would be tarnished in his eyes, unworthy of a Grand Admiral as a husband. Especially if Batch heard about this! He'd have every right to walk away from an alien-loving woman.

In essence, we would both be free… at least for a time. But that was more time than I had now, wasn't it?

His eyes held me, captivated by the scarlet depths. I hardly felt it when his hand lifted to caress my cheek, tilting my head to the side. His head lowered towards mine, my heart thundering in my chest. And I parted my lips in a soft gasp when his touched mine, leaning into the kiss, tasting him as he tasted me.

How was it that he'd put it? Wanting what was inappropriate, and yet drawn to it regardless. Yes, that described this man perfectly. It also described the man I really wanted to kiss, that I should have been kissing.

I would learn later that Grand Admiral Thrawn was never wrong when it came to timing. My eyes had barely fluttered shut when the door whisked open. True to Admiral Thrawn's predictions, Uncle Wil and Grand Admiral Batch stood in that doorway, the look on the former's face was pure controlled rage. The look on the latter's… was… curious of all things? Curious and… thoughtful?

Positioned as we were, there was no way we were shielded by any of the artwork. "Uncle!" I gasped, pulling away with real shock. I hadn't been prepared for the fury in that look. "I… We… Uncle, I—"

Uncle Wil raised his fingers in the air, snapping sharply as Con had. In marched two officers in dress uniforms.

"My niece is suddenly overcome with fatigue. I'm afraid she has caught something rather unpleasant, in spite of inoculations and warnings to the contrary," Uncle Wil said frostily, glaring hatred at Admiral Thrawn. "Please escort her discreetly through the service corridors back to her brother's suite. See to it that she does not leave, nor anyone enters save for myself and Admiral Motti."

I knew better than to say anything. More to the point, the slight tightening of pale blue fingers on mine warned me to silence. I bowed my head, letting the two officers guide me through yet another hidden door in the room.

"I trust you have given your reports to Grand Admiral Batch and General Tagge regarding the 'defects' in this station," Uncle Wil was saying.

"I have, Grand Moff Tarkin," Thrawn replied.

"Good. Then kindly remove yourself from this station this very instant. I may not have the authority at the moment to affect you directly, Thrawn, but trust me. It's coming…"

It was the last thing I heard before I was hustled off to parts unknown.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: So... this chapter came out dark (no surprise, coming from me, right?), but it wasn't intentional. Believe it or not, I did a lot of research on what the royal families of Europe and Asia used as punishments for their family members that defied their elders. What I've written here was considered _TAME_ compared to what they did to their loved ones. Seriously, we as the human race, did a lot of really bad things to those we love most in our history. So please keep that mind when you read. Regardless, this is probably as dark as this story will get. Please don't hate?

I actually need to give a big thank you to **Malicean** for suggesting the fuzzy slipper gift to Uncle Wil for his Lifeday celebration. While I doubt this is what you had in mind when you suggested it, please don't kill me? ::Looks cute?::

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

The bruises were finally starting to fade, though the ones on the inside were going to take quite a bit longer to vanish.

I thought of that as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying not to wince. Wincing only brought up the lingering pain of my blackened left eye—which now sported light yellow coloring instead of the ugly black and purple of injured flesh. Likewise, the expression tugged at my still-raw cheek, the not quite healed split of my lower lip. The marks of my "dishonor" and my subsequent "winning back" of Uncle's affections, stood out in stark contrast to my pale complexion. Little over a week on the Death Star, and my unpopular sunkissed tan was already fading back to the pale, porcelain white favored by the women of the Court.

I had to wonder, as I searched my face delicately with my fingertips, if they favored that pale, ghostly complexion because bruises were easier to conceal with white make-up and split lips looked perfect when colored over with red liptint against that skin tone. Drawing the eye towards bright color instead of the hidden pain behind the white paint.

Uncle Wil had a strong hand, the deceptively frail muscles in his equally deceptively delicate fingers like steel cables when they connected with my face. And the worst part was that the blows were open-handed and fast, calculated to hurt more than do lasting damage. Though I had a feeling that if he wanted to, he could have broken my face in several locations.

Instead, he was contented with sending me sprawling to the floor repeatedly. I wasn't allowed to defend myself in that conversation, if you could call it a conversation. Not physically, not verbally, and certainly not mentally. He'd barely crossed the threshold of Con's suite before he'd ordered my brother out of the room. I was still in my formal ball gown, the full skirt of the red silk glimmering in the lights, my hair still adorned with tiny fire rubies, still wound up in curls.

I shuddered at the memory, watching in my mind's eye as Con hesitated only briefly before nodding to our Uncle and heading to his personal rooms.

The first crack of Uncle's hand across my face was done before Con left the room, his punishment for hesitating even a moment to follow Uncle's orders. It could have been my imagination, but Con's step had faltered just slightly, his hands balling into fists at his side. But he'd continued to his room, knowing that Uncle would not stop until he was satisfied I'd learned the error of defying him. Anything Con did to mitigate that would lead to my further suffering or humiliation, if only because Uncle knew it would hurt Con, too.

Such was the way of the rich and privileged, I'd thought bitterly, pushing myself upright from the plush carpet. Even our very bodies could be used as weapons against each other. If Con did not capitulate, did not give over to Uncle as the eldest of the knotted yarnball that was our mingled "Family" present at the time, we'd both face worse.

Besides, there was a part of me that knew he approved of what Uncle was going to do. He certainly didn't like it, hated even that I was going to face that sort of punishment, but it was the law of our kind. And deep inside, he knew I deserved it.

Too bad that was something we differed on, drastically.

But then again, Admiral Thrawn had stated that I would need to be very brave if I was to save us both. I supposed this was my part of the "bravery." Certainly his was worse. He now had the enmity of the first man ever accorded the title of Grand Moff. Somehow, that felt worse than what was coming.

I barely had my feet under me before Uncle's backhand caught me again, sending me sprawling into a table this time instead of the carpet. My face took the worst of it, my left eye stinging from where I'd smacked the table leg on my way down. The delicate vase wobbled and I scrambled to my knees to grasp it, to keep it from toppling to the ground. If I made so much as a sound, caused so much as a sound, it would be construed as fighting back. And oh, that would be so much worse. I didn't even want to ponder what would happen if I did that.

Repentant. I had to be repentant. I had to take everything he gave me and do it in silence. I had to pay the price for what I'd done. Inwardly, I wanted to find the first woman in our history that decided this yielding to the pain was the appropriate response to the beatings. I wanted to find her and kill her, then take her place. And_ then_ kill the son of a bitch that had started smacking her around in the first place.

Uncle's hand appeared on the back of my neck, and I yelped before I could stop it. The hand tightened, yanking me upright. "An alien," he said coolly into my ear, his tone devoid of any emotion. "I could forgive you almost anything, my Tessa. You, who always pleased me as a child, who never once missed my Lifeday, never once failed to send me gifts for every promotion."

His free hand touched my cheek, tracing down the trail of my tears. "I still have those fuzzy slippers you sent me when you were but a child. Out of all of my relations, I had always tolerated your unconventional antics for that very fact. You never once tried to curry favor with your gifts. You gave them out of love and respect. And here I am, bending over backwards to repay those gifts with a marriage that would make you a Princess of the Imperial Court. But what do I find instead? You… kissing an alien!"

He shoved downward with that hand on my neck, forcing me to hands and knees on the carpet. Shining red glittered in the lights against that deep scarlet carpet. I couldn't tell through my tears if it was my blood, or fallen rubies from my hair. And I certainly dared not lift a hand to my face to find out.

There was a sound of crystal against crystal, of ice being put into a glass and some sort of liquid poured over it. He'd moved over to Con's bar, though I couldn't see him.

"You disappoint me, Jentessa. Bitterly."

I shuddered. In mingled fear and in anger. I hated this! I hated it! Stars, why couldn't I be allowed to defend myself? Why couldn't I have been left alone on Alderaan?!

"There will be consequences," Uncle continued. "I now have to find someone else that will make a fine bride for Admiral Batch. Perhaps Domina Tagge would be more receptive of this great gift than you."

For a moment, a slender, nearly forgotten moment, I rolled my eyes. Why did everything have to circle back to Domina Tagge? Why not suggest Leia Organa and make my evening resplendent with disgust? Certainly one always seemed to include the other in my life.

His hand appeared in my hair, yanking me to my feet by it. All thoughts fled under that harsh grip, my feet stumbling against the carpet, losing a shoe. Uncle drug me over to one of the overstuffed leather chairs. He sank into it, again shoving me down to my knees beside it. Humiliating me like a servant, a plaything, a slave or a hired joygirl to endure any degrading thing for meager credits.

"Yes, if memory serves, you and Domina were rivals in school, were you not?" he continued, the hand in my hair keeping my head wrenched back at a painful angle. So all that I could see was the ceiling. "I saw the way your shoulders stiffened at her name. Would you like that, little Tessa, to see Domina wed a Grand Admiral? Would you like to spend the rest of your life as one of her attendants, married to a man with little title and even less friends in the Court? I can make that happen. I can make the rest of your life absolute misery. Though, perhaps I am too late for that. Perhaps you have done that to yourself. What man in his right mind would want you now that an alien has put his lips upon yours?

"He used you, my poor girl. I am not blind to what he tricked you into doing in order to escape my control. He played us both like fine instruments. And for that, he will pay dearly. If you were not my favorite, I would have forced him to marry you right then and there. Shackled him to me with bonds of blood and duty to reinforce his position beneath me. Then he would not find such an easy time of Imperial Service, especially not after he was transferred under my personal command."

The hand on my hair vanished, and I flinched as it appeared to caress my cheek once again. "But despite all of this, you are still my favorite. Foolish, imperfect and a woman, but you are still my favorite. I see now that you were lead astray by this alien, that your silence shows that you honor our family. And for that, I'd rather see you married to an oaf like Admiral Ozzel than to suffer the degradation of an alien marriage. That, at least, I will spare you."

The slap that followed sent me sprawling to the carpet again, the taste of copper in my mouth letting me know that it was my blood instead of gemstones on the carpet this time.

I lay there at his feet for stars knew how long. Until I heard the sound of ice cubes clinking against an empty glass. Until I felt him kneeling down on the carpet next to me. My breath came harder, eyes widening. Oh stars, this was going to be the worst of it. This is where I needed to be brave. I closed my eyes tightly as his hand gently undid the laces in the back of the dress, my hands grabbing fistfuls of the carpet.

Especially when I heard the sound of a belt coming undone, the sound of leather wrapping around a fist to form a firm handhold. "If you disagree with my judgment, Jentessa, now is the time to say so."

I bit back the whimper. If I opened my lips and spoke aloud, defended my kiss with Thrawn or fought back in the slightest, Uncle would banish me from the family. A few days ago I would have done so gladly. Kriff, even a few hours ago! But Con had let it slip that something was going on with Alderaan, something deadly. I had friends there, people I cared about. People I may be able to help in some way, or warn.

Moreover, if I contested Uncle's ruling of my "crime," then Con would have the chance to champion me. And he'd do it, too, damn him. He'd take off that fancy jacket and let Uncle stripe his back with that belt until there was bone showing through.

He'd do it for me. All to restore my "place" in the family, to appease the wounded pride of our uncle. All because he loved me.

I tried to tell myself that it would be over soon. Then Uncle would accept me back with open arms.

I tried to tell myself that Admiral Thrawn wouldn't care a flip if I blamed him with my silence. In fact, it was probably what he warned me to do back in that art gallery.

I tried to amuse myself at the thought of Domina Tagge sold off in a loveless marriage with Admiral Batch, probably being beaten nightly just like this by the Admiral's aide in his place when she opened that big mouth of hers at the wrong time.

It didn't help.

I took pride in the fact that I kept silent through five lashes with that belt. I understood that Uncle had wound the buckle in his fist to not permanently scar me, as an act of love. He didn't have to. In fact, it was expected for him to strike me with that metal piece. This was as much love as this messed up family could show to one another. Perhaps that, more than anything else, contributed to the screams when lash number six touched my back.

This was love in the eyes of the "best and brightest" of the Imperial Court, the reality behind the fantasy we all presented.

This is what other girls dreamed of having, pretended to be when they saw us on the holonet news in our gorgeous gowns and flashing jewels.

When it was all over, when I could draw breath that wasn't in the form of a scream and the doors closed behind Uncle, when I realized that the pounding sound I had heard through my beating was Con's fists against the locked door of his own bedroom, I had to wonder if any of those other girls ever thought that the pretend rubies in their hair might one day mingle with their blood upon the floor.

* * *

Con, himself, tended my wounds that night. Silently, with a rare display of tears running down his face. He didn't make a sound. Indeed, the only way to know that he felt anything behind the impassive, expressionless mask, was those crystalline tears. And the slight shaking of his hands as he applied what healing salves he had on hand in his quarters to my back.

But he wouldn't say a word to me. Not that I engaged him in conversation. What was there to talk about? We were both in disgrace for my actions. Trying to explain how utterly stupid this all was would just make things worse in his eyes. He truly loved what our family stood for, loved the ancient traditions. He probably saw my 'private beating' as a mercy of all things. After all, we could have been publically disgraced, forced to walk through the halls of this station with everyone knowing we were out of favor.

For him, it would have been a death sentence—and not just socially. If Major Fehr was any indication of the type of people that staffed this place, Con could expect a dagger in the back or an unsightly fall down a shaft if anyone knew just how upset Uncle was with us at the moment. All to improve their chances of promotion and favor in the great Grand Moff Tarkin's eyes.

Just another reason I hated this place, this system of social sharking. Just another reason I had run away.

I wasn't allowed to have bacta, and I certainly wasn't permitted an Emdee droid to heal me. It was part of the traditional punishment that I had to let my wounds heal naturally, suffering in seclusion during that time. It was supposed to show that I acknowledged my faults, that I languished in disfavor, hoping for a chance to prove myself better than I was before. If you asked me, it was nothing but a ruse, a horrible excuse for people to gloss over what they all knew had happened.

Traditionally speaking, at any rate.

While Uncle was, at surface level, a traditional man, he cared more about his own reputation than any backward custom of our families. No, he had publically acknowledged me as his most treasured niece. So no one outside his most trusted inner circle knew that I'd been beaten for kissing Admiral Thrawn, for blowing his oh so hoped for marriage alliance with Martio Batch out of the sky. For all the galaxy knew, I was still Uncle's perfect niece. His pride would accept nothing less.

And after I emerged from my forced isolation all pretty and proper again, Uncle would make a public display of hugging me. Acting as if nothing had happened at all. Indeed, in his mind, nothing had happened. I'd paid my due, after all, taken his beating like a proper woman should. All was forgiven and forgotten… until I screwed up again. Stars help me if that happened, if I didn't fall into line like he wanted.

Stars help _him_ if he ever laid a hand on me like that again. I swore it to myself, on the blood that had dropped from my lips and back. I would rip out his throat with my own hands before I would let it happen.

As for Con, no one questioned his need to wear gloves for a week. No one knew that days after the gala, I was still scrubbing his dried blood from his door, from where he'd tried to batter the durasteel down with his bare hands at the sound of my screams. His punishment. Even he, the second in command of this station, was denied bacta to heal his hands. For this was a family thing. It had nothing to do with rank.

As far as anyone on the station knew, we were nothing but a big happy family. Worthy to be envied, to be worshipped. Serving the Empire with pride and distinction and honor. All for the glory of the Emperor.

Always, for the glory of the Emperor.

I rolled my eyes at that, tossing the notecard that bore those exact words into the recycler and trying my best not to dump the accompanying flowers with it. There was a veritable forest of them, clogging up the majority of Con's living room. Ever since I'd "vanished" from the gala, the flowers had arrived in droves. Traditionally speaking, it was expected for suitors, even those with no chance of approval from my family, to send flowers to a lady after such an event. Given that Uncle had made some excuse about me feeling unwell, the sympathy flowers had joined those gala flowers to turn Con's suite into a florist's shop.

All the admirals, the moffs and their wives, the captains still in orbit around the station, the members of their retinue, and the few officers I'd met who were regularly assigned to this station all sent their regards and well wishes for my return to health. For instance, I had no idea who Commander Gilad Pellaeon was, nor Sergeant Nova Stihl. Yet their flowers arrived just like all the others.

What did surprise me were the flowers that arrived daily from Admiral Batch. Huge sprays of lilies and yellow roses, my favorite flowers, dwarfed any other arrangement. All with hand-written cards bearing personal expressions of worry for my wellbeing. It was… thoughtful and charming… and would have made me smile if I wasn't so confused by them. Had he not seen me kissing that alien Admiral? Wasn't he just like Uncle in so many ways, sharing all his beliefs? They certainly seemed to get on as if they were raised together!

Still… it was a pleasant shock, if such a thing could exist. Much like the bouquet of metal flowers, the petals of each sharp enough to cut fingers that did not grasp them carefully, that had arrived from Admiral Natasi Daala. I was seriously beginning to love that woman. Those flowers I put on my bedside table, and every time I felt myself crumbling, felt myself beginning to sob under the weight of pain and my dark future, I stared at those carved flowers and remembered my vow.

Delicate enough to seem alive, those metallic beauties, deadly enough to be a weapon.

Just like Natasi, herself.

Yet nothing was more pleasing and shocking than the small arrangement that had arrived only once. The smallest one that contained a single black orchid, a single red rose. All surrounded by Alderaanian star laces. Unlike all the others, it bore no signature. It needed none.

The two words "not forgotten" combined with the flowers let me know who they were from.

Despite myself, I grinned. The sheer audacity of the man! He was half a galaxy away or more, doing the Emperor only knew what, and still he took the risk to let me know he hadn't forgotten what I'd done for him. There was a part of me that wondered just what he was playing at, that if, as Uncle had said, Admiral Thrawn was setting me up as a pawn in one of his games.

That was probably true, though not in any way that would kill me. Don't ask me how I knew that. It was just a feeling I had that wouldn't go away. Just as I knew that I could trust Cassio.

At least, I thought I could. Looking through today's sea of flowers, I had yet to run into any from him. Not even the odd chrysanthemum, the flower I had loved most during our time at school. One would think that if Cassio Tagge had paid attention enough to remember how I was at school, that he would be clever enough to send me chrysanthemums. Wouldn't he care enough after nearly kissing me to check on my wellbeing?

Stars above, I'd been locked away for nearly a week now!

And then a horrible thought occurred to me. What if Cassio was like Uncle Wil? What if Uncle had told Cassio that I'd kissed an alien? What if he'd told Cassio that I'd kissed _anyone_ so soon after nearly kissing him? The thought made me sick to my stomach and I took to my bed for two more days. Even Con's gentle words couldn't coax me to eat so much as a bite. If all that was true, then I'd managed to gain a favor from a very powerful man who was far, far away, and loose the favor of a very powerful man close enough to touch.

It just wasn't fair.

* * *

So imagine my surprise when, just a day after "recovering from my illness," that Uncle Wil summoned me to his office. You would have thought Con had resigned his commission as an Admiral and had taken up the post of overly-fussy protocol droid. He was a literal flurry of activity in my bedroom, ordering open the closet and inspecting the galaxy of gowns he'd had commissioned for me. I sat on the bed, blinking blearily at him as a hovering serving droid brought me a cup of tea.

"Con," I yawned, rubbing gingerly at my still-sore left eye. "S'what's goin' on?"

"You. You are what is going on, my dear sister," he said between the sound of hangars slapping together rapidly. "Where is the gown I had delivered to you yesterday? The cream one with the slashes of scarlet and the gold filigree?"

I blinked into my tea, hoping it had the answers he was looking for. I certainly didn't. "Wha?"

"The gown!" he turned on me sharply, his tone filling with military snap. "I had it specifically designed to merge House Motti's colors with those favored by Grand Admiral Batch."

I blinked at him this time, dumbfounded. And pointed to the chair in the corner, the gown still sealed in its protective bag. I hadn't so much as glanced at it since its arrival.

The sharp annoyance was gone in the blink of an eye, replaced with a smile of delight. "Well, what are you doing just sitting there? You need to be prepared. Today is our return to favor in Uncle's eyes."

He clapped his hands and in trundled the fussy protocol droid that I'd come to loathe so well. Carrying a plethora of kits that I just knew were brimming with makeup and hair accessories.

"Our return to favor?" I echoed dumbly, nearly crying when he took my untouched tea away. "Con, the only way that man is ever going to truly forgive me is if the Emperor, himself, proposed marriage. Admiral Batch saw me in my…" I trailed off at the way that Con's face started to darken, clearing my throat. "Well, we all know how that ended. Just pack up that dress and give it to Domina Tagge. Uncle said he'd be sending for her shortly to pledge a union with Admiral Ba—"

I cut off with a gasp as Con pulled me from the bed, twirling me around the room as if we were waltzing all over again. As if that night and the horrible week that followed had never happened. Funny how the insanely rich could do that. Just pretend whole stretches of time never happened while everyone else counted each second of their lives like the blessings that they were.

"Admiral Batch has cleared his schedule today, sister mine," Con continued with that lovely smile. "He's intending to take you on the tour of the station, just as he'd promised. If you do as I say, and be the charming sister I know you to be, you could still land him as a husband. In fact, you had better. Otherwise, I think Uncle has a marriage picked out for you that you won't like at all."

So much for his promise not to discuss the whole "marriage thing" when I first arrived. "What if I don't want to get married?"

Con looked at me as if I had lost my senses. "Why ever would you not? Tessa, don't be so childish. Every woman of worth wants a good match. Now if you are finished jesting with me, go and get dressed. We have one hour to meet Uncle in his office, and hopefully begin what will be one of the best days of your life."

Oh, if he only knew…


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks to everyone that has reviewed, favorited, followed and private messaged me in regards to this story! Special thanks to **Admiral Mitth'raw'nuruodo****, Malicean,** and **Hoplite39** for the lovely reviews. :D I hope you like this next chapter. I've taken some liberties with this and gone slightly AU. For instance, the character Bria Theran died on Toprawa. She did not get captured as was written in this chapter. I hope you like the changes and where I'm going with this.

Thanks again to **Hopelite39** and the use of LC-9087 and the order system as was created in **Loyal soldier of the Empire - Journal of an Imperial Stormtrooper. **:D

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

Predictably, my return to favor was marked with fanfare, pomp and circumstance. Con stood beside me in the turbolift, practically bouncing on his toes with excitement. One would have thought that the Emperor, himself, was waiting in Uncle's office to offer him a promotion to Grand Admiral or even further to a lordship position to rival Lord Vader or Prince Xizor. I flicked a glance at him, noting the way his shoulders were squared, his hands grasped behind his back. Not a hair was out of place, not a speck of anything to mar the perfect press of his uniform.

Anyone else would have seen the usual stern if somewhat arrogant Admiral Conan Motti waiting to go about his daily duties. Those that knew him well could see the slight smile, the way he rested on the balls of his feet.

Like a little boy about to emerge into his Lifeday celebration.

I turned my attention to the doors, observing my wavy reflection in the burnished durasteel. Yes, I looked perfect, too. My hair styled in a way that was elegant and yet appropriate for this trip, make-up artfully applied to disguise the faint yellowish bruise encircling my left eye, my lips painted a soft rose color appropriately light enough for a daytime visit and yet dark enough to conceal the lingering split in my lower lip that wasn't quite healed. And covering my body was that dress Con had made for me, the full skirt heavy with embroidery and gemstones in the Nabooian style.

There was more fabric in the hem of that gown than there was in any slave girl's entire wardrobe, and yet I felt as if I wore less. It was an apt comparison, I thought. Wasn't I about to be sold just like a slave girl, my freedom traded for political advantage? My body and gracious smile on display one final time before the selection was made.

Only my collar would be in the form of a delicate ring so easily removed. It was the bonds made of blood and honor rather than steel that would be much harder to break.

The lift doors parted before I could contemplate my future slavery, Con offering his arm to me. Oh, it was all so perfect, from the stiff sound of Con's heels coming together formally; to the pristine clack of blaster rifles against white armor as my stormtrooper escort similarly fell into parade ready. Honored, no doubt, to be permitted to bring a delicate flower of the Empire to her proper place at her soon-to-be-husband's side. After all, what was it that Uncle had said that day in his office?

_Charm and grace and beauty, Admiral Batch. These are the things we seek for ourselves when the day has drawn to a close. These are the things we fight for, when all is said and done._

I noticed there was nothing in there about intelligence, loyalty, or love. No, those were virtues that only the women of the Empire were expected to keep… while, after the bloom of youth had left their cheeks, their husbands took young and lovely mistresses. And they, these delicate flowers that all men supposedly fought and died for, turned a graceful blind eye to the whole affair, going on about their perfect lives with beautiful delusions and charming excuses as to why their beds remained cold and empty night after night.

I nearly broke then. I nearly turned on my heel and ran.

The only thing stopping me was the presence of those two damned stormtroopers at my back. Did they realize that this was just another prisoner escort duty they were performing? That they were condemning me to death of personality as the weight of each day slowly ground me into dust?

I squeezed my eyes closed, trying not to hyperventilate. And thought of the metal flowers on my nightstand, and the flowers in my hair. And the reasons for both.

On reflex alone, my hand rose to rest atop my brother's, his fingers closing over mine. It barely trembled, and I took courage in that. Natasi certainly did not shake or fear when she faced harsh situations. I could be like her, couldn't I? Con glanced at me, a smile so bright on his lips. He truly thought he was doing what was best for me. He truly thought that I would understand in time. I smiled in return, the only thing I could do with myself that didn't involve screaming.

Predictably, Uncle rose from behind his desk as we crossed the threshold of his office, that wide if somehow still reserved smile on his lips. Obediently I waited for Con to come to a full stop, to bend in a formal bow and then place a chaste kiss on my cheek. Symbolically acknowledging his forgiveness of my 'transgression' against the Motti family. Obediently, grinding my teeth to powder behind my lips, I moved forward to warmly embrace the man that had beaten me bloody little more than a week ago. I bit my tongue to stifle the slight cry of pain as his hands touched my back, the shawl I wore not quite a defense to the pressure against the still-healing wounds.

He noticed. I could tell by the way the flat of one hand pressed just a bit more. A warning that I wasn't back in his good graces quite yet. That the conversation he would have with Admiral Batch after my day with him would be the deciding factor in that category.

I smiled through the pain, accepting the kiss on that same cheek from Uncle, signaling his forgiveness of my debt against him.

And just like that, it was all washed away in their eyes. I was 'little Tessa' again. Oh, how I hated that nickname now. Just thoroughly abhorred it!

"My dearest Tessa," Uncle said, taking a step back. Smiling widely. "It is so good to see you returned to us."

Oh, the things I wanted to say to him! "I am quite relieved, myself," I said instead, turning to greet the others in the room so I wouldn't have to look at him. "Thank you all for your lovely gifts and well-wishes. They truly show the civility of the great Empire we fight to maintain."

Of those in the room, only Admiral Daala smirked at my little speech, picking up on the irony of my last statement. I wasn't certain what to make of that.

"It was for your return to health that I prayed," Admiral Batch said, stepping up to me and offering his hand. Kissing mine when I placed it in his. "If you will permit me to say such, this station has been darker without your beauty to light the way."

I bowed my head, dipping into a curtsey. Mostly because I was expected to, so that he could see that I wore the lilies and yellow roses woven into my hair, wearing his flowers to show that I chose his favor over all others. Did he notice the sprays of star laces that I'd intermixed here and there, the single red rose nestled at the nape of my neck, securing my chestnut waves to hide the lingering bruises from Uncle's hand? I may have been forced to wear this man's favors, but there was only one that had tried to protect me from this fate. And I wore his flowers as a shield even now.

I expected Admiral Batch to notice, to frown or comment upon it. What I didn't expect was the way that General Moradmin Bast, Uncle's chief aide, seemed to smile faintly. Odd, that. So was the tight frown that crossed Cassio's lips. That was one thing I couldn't stop myself from reacting to, surprise lighting up my eyes as I rose back to my full height. Well, what did he expect of me? He had sent me no tokens of affection, no flowers to display his intentions of courting me. Why would he take offense if he had no desire to…

I watched as Cassio's express of puzzlement grew, then faded to barely controlled hostility as his gaze flickered to Con.

Or more to the point, the smug smile that tugged at his lips.

And then I knew. Cassio HAD sent me flowers. Knowing him, bunches and bunches of chrysanthemums, enough to bury me alive, had shown up at Con's door. And knowing Con and his hatred of the man, those flowers had never made it past his foyer. Cassio had probably tried to gain visitation with me, too! All blocked by my brother, my dearest loving brother. Who had used me to strike at Cassio in their never-ending feud. Who, like my Uncle, was using me to jockey for greater position and power and wealth.

Idly, I found myself wondering if Admiral Batch was aware of his own slavery in this arrangement, his own position as a pawn between these men of power. Surely he was being used just as much as I.

"It is alright, Tessa," Uncle chuckled, drawing my attention back to him. "I assure you, you may answer the Admiral. Your brother is well aware of Admiral Batch's most honorable intentions and has approved of this outing. You need not seek his permission to continue."

That's what he thought I was doing in staring at Con? Asking _permission_? Like a broken and docile animal? I had to close my eyes and breathe deeply another moment, the only way to hide the rage that boiled inside.

"You are right, Uncle," I managed out without sounding strangled. "Forgive me. I am still recovering myself, I'm afraid."

A shadow passed through those coldly calculating eyes. "Are you suggesting you are unable to attend the Admiral today?"

"Oh, no," I said quickly, almost too quickly, nearly clinging to Batch's hand where it held mine. I even tittered out a laugh. "Of course not, Uncle. I would never waste his time, or yours, in such a manner. I am deeply honored for this opportunity… to see the station. You must understand that Con has been my sole companion through my unsettling moments of the past week. Seeking his approval has become a habit."

That shadow faded, his smile ratcheting up a notch. And so did Daala's smirk. This time I tried to ignore it. Tried to ignore feeling like I was undergoing some kind of audition for her separately from everyone else. Another oddity that I did not have the time to ponder. Not when I currently faced another beating if I screwed up this deal with Batch.

Con positively beamed at my words. "I am truly blessed with the brightest jewel in all of the Empire as my sister."

"Aside from your lady wife, I'm sure," Natasi put in.

"My lady wife is the center of my universe, Admiral Daala," Con said smoothly, not rising to the bait. "As Tessa will be the center of a lucky gentleman's universe. She is a Motti, and understands tradition and expectations well."

Okay, maybe he had risen to the bait after all. Going so far as to insinuate that Daala was less a woman because she was not married. This time I was allowed to show my disapproval, glancing downward and smoothing my free hand over my skirts. Let them all wonder as to whose comment offended me. That was better than opening my mouth and calling them all backstabbing conniving serpents!

"And now we seem to be doing the very thing Tessa had stated she would not do," Uncle stepped in, slanting a dark glance at both Con and Natasi. "We appear to be wasting Grand Admiral Batch's precious time. Go on your tour, my dear, with both my blessing as well as your brother's. We have every faith that today will be a glorious day for you."

I dipped down in a curtsey again. Aware that Batch had not let go of my hand since first taking it. Aware, too, that the moment Con and Natasi had started to snipe at each other he had stepped closer to me, his other hand hovering at my shoulder, almost protectively. And with Uncle's dismissal, that hand touched my shoulder, turning me towards the door.

I tried to catch Cassio's gaze as we passed him, mine filling with all the apology I could. He seemed to understand. At least I thought he did, as the last thing I saw was his gaze turning hard as stone as it settled on Con.

* * *

I wanted to say that the tour was horrifically dull and boring, that Batch was a stiff bureaucrat like all the others I'd met at the dinner. I wanted to say that I was just as distant and cold and boring, making this as much a chore for him as it was for me. Wonder of all wonders, I couldn't. He was gentle, charismatic, and… charming. Very charming, with an openness in his eyes that meant he was truly being honest with me, or that he was such a good player at the games of intrigue that I was outclassed by light years. But if there was an alternative motive for his attentions this day, I could not find it.

To further add to my confusion, he did not spare a section of the station that I wanted to see. In fact, he seemed to regard each request as a personal challenge, one that was amusing rather than offensive. To the point, I asked to see the inside of a ray shaft. One that ran horizontal instead of vertical and served as an escape passage if necessary. I still felt a smidge guilty for shoving that trooper into a shaft on Alderaan. Fair was fair, right?

Not only did he make it happen, but Admiral Batch climbed in with me. In his white uniform. With my preposterous layers of frothy skirts making us seem more like the filling of a pastry than a noble-born and a Grand Admiral. I couldn't help laughing at the poor officers on duty in that section of the station, the looks on their faces full of horror and fright at what we were doing. I took selfish delight in that. There's a certain measure of sadistic satisfaction in making someone else feel terror when you, yourself, were terrified.

I couldn't help it. I was a Motti at heart. We were far from perfect.

Batch laughed, too. Though his mirth was centered around the scrambling of stormtroopers to get a proper escort in position at the end of the shaft. I certainly didn't help matters much when, after giving the Admiral a rather sly smile, I took off in a random direction when we came to the first intersection of pipe. He barked out a cry of surprise, but not one of alarm. Like he was going to lose me and the cream puff of a dress in those narrow confines.

Still, he was willing to chase me through the station. On his hands and knees. In his flawless white uniform.

Laughing while I was laughing.

Oh, Uncle and Con would have had small heart attacks to see such a sight!

It wasn't long before I was completely turned about in the ray shaft, taking random forks as they appeared. Somehow managing to stay a step—or a crawl—ahead of Admiral Batch. That was until my current tube ran smack dab into a grate of some kind. Outside I could hear the sounds of men at work, murmuring softly to each other at some sort of station. Stormtroopers walked through the area in pairs, their steps clacking heavily on the steel floor. A sense of foreboding rose through me at the movements, more so than any other time I'd seen it.

More so than when I was escorted by my personal living recorders in white armor.

And still I couldn't stop myself from edging close to that gate.

A woman was brought forward, one with dirty red-gold hair and the loveliest blue-green eyes I'd ever seen. Her clothing was torn, caked with mud and other things that made me swallow convulsively. But it was the … whatever it was that was wrong with her hands that caused blackness to swim before my eyes. They were cuffed with the same binders that I'd been bound with when first arrested, yet somehow wrong. Her arms turned upward at an odd angle, the fingers not caked with mud but black—black!—from lack of circulation.

The stormtroopers parted before her… and my brother stepped forward.

He studied the woman a long moment, reaching into the left sleeve of his uniform to pull forth a handkerchief and put it to his nose. Like she smelled horrible or something. Or, more to the point, he wanted her to think that. I could tell by the way her head snapped up in indignation.

"My dear Miss Theran," he said, slipping the kerchief back into his sleeve. "Welcome to the last hours of the rest of your life. Those can be spent in agony, or those can be spent rather pleasantly. All depending upon on how long it takes you to tell me just exactly what you and your friends were doing on Toprawa."

Toprawa… I'd heard that name before. Cassio had said it when he'd interrupted my dance with Con at the party. What was so special about that planet?

This Theran woman screwed up her face, and I just knew her answer was going to come in form of spittle. A white-armored fist struck her in the cheek before she could so much as purse her lips. My brother sighed.

"Take her back to her cell," he said with a chuckle. "Perhaps a few more days in darkness without sustenance will loosen her tongue. And for your sake, Miss Theran, I hope you answer me before Lord Vader arrives. He'll make my treatment of you into a fond memory."

"There's nothing you can do to my body that I haven't already suffered," the woman hissed, words barely recognizable. The way her lips barely moved, her face contorting with each syllable... Her jaw was clearly broken! "I am free in a way you'll never understand."

Con shook his head, smirking faintly. "I very much doubt that, Miss Theran. It isn't your body that concerns me. It's that keen rebel mind and the secrets contained therein. I will dice you a piece at a time to get what I want, take you apart joint by joint until you are a stump of a person if needs be. One more chance, my dear, to avoid that fate. Tell me what you were doing on Toprawa and what you did with the information you stole."

Silence.

Con's eyes narrowed. "Commander Slakas, I believe she's far too comfortable. Make certain she isn't."

A strangled sound left her lips before she could stop it, the stormtrooper that had struck her grabbing her shoulder harshly and shoving her towards a dark hallway. What else could they do to her to make her more uncomfortable? Con wouldn't cut her up, would he? Not Con… not my brother! But the more I looked at her retreating form, the more I realized that it wasn't mud on her hair and clothing and skin. It was dried blood.

One hand pressed to my mouth, I reached a shaking hand towards that grate, towards the horror of what they could still do to her. To what my own BROTHER had ordered done.

A hand snapped over the one on my mouth from behind, so much larger than my own. Another catching my wrists before my fingertips touched the grate. "No," Batch said softly into my ear, pulling me backward. "Do not touch the grate. An alarm will trigger and gas will flood this shaft."

I let him pull me back, the mirth from before left behind in that tube.

* * *

His hands were warm around my waist as Batch helped me out of the end of the shaft some distance away from the horror I'd witnessed. I didn't meet his eyes this time, my smile in place only from years of practice. But years of being forced to curtsey and smile before the most powerful men in the Empire could not change the sickly pallor of my skin. There were no social protocols to cover what I've seen. And we both knew it.

And yet he didn't let go of me once my slippered feet touched the floor. We stood there against the wall, alone in some hallway somewhere in this nightmare that was my new home. Was he waiting for me to blather on like I was supposed to, make some lighthearted jest about his strength in pulling me from the tube like I weighed nothing, that his grip on my waist was firm and invigorating?

That was pure kriff and we both knew it. I'd witnessed something horrific, something my brother took _pleasure_ in, if going by his reactions to that poor woman was any indication. There wasn't enough discipline in existence to keep me from reacting to that. Not when I was certain that this Toprawa place had something to do with the troubles on Alderaan. I could just feel it.

Eventually those hands left my waist, traveling up to my shoulders and then… what was he doing? Was he… was he _hugging _me? As plainly as we were standing there, his arms pulled me towards him until my head was pressed to his shoulder. It was absurd! It defied every ounce of protocol! I wasn't his wife yet and he shouldn't be crossing those personal boundaries and… and … I didn't need to be hugged, to be coddled like one of those simpering women I hated!

So why then was I shaking so badly? Why were my hands bunched in the cloth of his sleeves, and not for the pain that came from someone touching my healing backside? And why, stars above, **_why_**, were tears leaking past my closed eyes?

* * *

We strolled arm in arm down the hallways, the image of propriety as a duo of harried looking stormtroopers finally caught up with us. I cracked a slight smile at that, relieved to see that even those stolid figures could look so frazzled in their faceless armor. That I wasn't the only one shaken by what had just occurred. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the slight smile on the Admiral's face, too. As if he had been thinking the same thing. And out of an impulse I would never understand, I reached out a hand and gently smoothed the slightly ruffled hair just above his ear.

His smile grew soft, a matching chuckle escaping his lips. "I'm afraid I no longer cut the striking image of the dashing Admiral."

"My fault, I'm sure."

"As I recall, you did not force me into the ray shaft, Miss Motti. Contrary to your Uncle's belief, I am quite capable of making rash decisions on my own."

"According to my Uncle, every decision made without consulting his wisdom is rash and inappropriate."

"Is that why you are here with me now? Following his wisdom?"

It was said gently, without malice. With a splash of that curiosity I had seen in him that night he'd caught me with Admiral Thrawn.

"Isn't that why you are with me?" I countered just as gently. "I am not a fool, Admiral Batch, and neither are you, I don't think. We are both political pieces in a game. If my family name wasn't Motti, would you still be here with me?"

He stopped, causing me to do the same, and took my free hand in his. "Yes."

I couldn't help but frown slightly. "Why?"

He chuckled again. "That was very direct for someone with the last name of Motti."

This time I blushed, looking away. "I should not be speaking with you like this. Uncle will not approve, nor will my brother."

Stars, my brother! Taking part in what could have only been torture! And _ENJOYING_ it!

"Miss Motti, as long as we get along well I doubt that your uncle or brother care overly much about the nature of our conversations."

That was true. Utterly and scarily true.

"You evade my question, Admiral."

"Martio, if you please," he replied. "I think we have progressed beyond the need for formalities. And in answer to your question, I prefer a companion with whom I can carry on a conversation of some intelligence."

"Then you must find yourself a woman outside of the aristocracy," I retorted. "We are not bread for ability to think. And if I may call you Martio, you must call me Jentessa, or Tessa if you prefer."

He laughed, a real rolling sound that was both warm and inviting. "If you were not bread for your intelligence, as you so claim, why have you only asked me questions that involve thought this day? Thus far your interest has run from how the generators shift from one quadrant to the next, how the system handles energy bleeds, how the station processes its waste safely…And not once have you pressed me on questions regarding my person."

I shrugged a shoulder on pure reflex, hoping that I hid the sudden spike of pain behind a smile. "You have not asked me any questions of that nature, either."

"It is not my place to ask them."

"Funny, I could say the same thing."

"You could," he rejoined, smiling. "Or I could deduce by your lack of questions that you already know the answers."

I laughed lightly, stepping away from him to stare out the transparisteel viewport before us. This one did not peer out into the stars. Instead, I was staring down into one of the docking bays. Docking bay 327 I believe it was. Stormtroopers marched across the floor in their square formation, at least three squads worth, while crewers and officers of all kinds went about their tasks. Their forms reflected against the near mirror shine of the deck. So efficient and orderly…

Like that room full of men going about their tasks, apparently heedless of the woman suffering before their eyes. I could not help but toss a look back at the two stormtroopers that had continued to escort us around the station, who discreetly held back to give the Admiral and I time to chat. Would they break my bones and twist my fingers, let my flesh die as blood flow was cut away by bonds?

"You're stalling," Martio said softly, amusement thick in his tone.

I turned my head away, knowing the window would catch my reflection and show him my expression anyway. The sickly pallor back to my skin, something that a forced mischievous smile could not hide. "No, I am acting the part that I should."

"And that part you play prohibits direct answers to my questions?"

"Everyone knows that a direct answer is the fastest path to danger, Martio."

"Not in the military."

"Then be very proud that I am not in uniform."

His smile widened, became tender as he took my hands in his once again. "I would be very disappointed if you were."

"Now, good sir," I chided playfully, letting myself down in that smile. It was so much better than drowning in nightmares. "Is that any way to speak to someone who supports women in uniform? I happen to think the world of Admiral Daala."

"I was thinking more of the fact that I would have to share your presence with your commanding officers."

"And what makes you think I would settle for being beneath someone else's command?"

He pulled me closer still, his hand reaching up to caress my cheek. "I doubt that you would, Tessa. Or at the very least you would give fits to any man that dared think you his to command. I have a feeling that your brother and Uncle find it very difficult to keep you in line."

"You have no idea, Martio."

His head dipped downward, gently tilting mine upward. "I am willing to learn."

* * *

I leaned back against the wall of Con's foyer, eyes closing as the turbolift doors took Martio back to his duties. My fingertips rose to my lips, feeling the lingering warmth of his there, the slight swelling from where our mouths had come together in ways that were more than chaste. Stars, what was I doing? What was I really _doing_?

I was collecting kisses like a lightskirt, that was what I was doing! First with Admiral Thrawn and now with Martio. And so soon after nearly kissing Cassio Tagge!

_Hussy!_ My conscience whispered, and I couldn't help but giggle. When I made it back to Alderaan, I was going to owe Olonrae one kriff of an apology. Maybe even sit down and compare notes, start our own Broken Hearts club or something. Requirements: proof that you have what it takes to make men from other worlds and senior Imperial ranks beg for your attentions.

I giggled again, opening my eyes and staring at the closed lift doors. Martio Batch… could I really go through with it and marry him? Could love blossom from such arranged marriages? I didn't know, honestly couldn't know. I'd spent so much time running away from Count Averstan that I hadn't given much thought to the possibility. Con and Kestriana certainly had love of some sort. I knew my brother better than anyone else, and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his wife and his daughter had nothing to do with politics or the size of her dowry or any political connections he gained in the marriage.

All of that was certainly present, of course. But there was something to Con and Kestri that was more than a marriage of convenience. I think they really did love each other, had loved each other before they agreed to be matched.

Could I grow to love Martio? A man that would be gone from me for ninety percent of our marriage?

I thought back to the dinner we'd shared hours ago, smiling again. He'd arranged for the most unusual of picnics—in the center of a vast air channel for one of the four secondary reactors, of all places. I'd stared at him in incredulity, clinging to his arm as we walked the bridge to the center island. Above and below us extended into darkness, giving the impression that one would fall forever if they took a wrong step on the walkway.

But it had been perfect, especially when he told me to settle and wait for it. A moment later the central lights went out, plunging the channel into absolute blackness. And then one by one the tiny lights of a thousand stations winked into existence. Like the first stars of night climbing the horizon on Alderaan. Everywhere I turned, I was surrounded by starlight.

It was like having dinner among the stars.

"You're going to have to help me find one of you," I said to Lefty, grinning widely as the stormtrooper in question turned to me. "The trooper that escorted me onto the Death Star for the first time. I have to tell him that I withdraw my offer. It appears I am spoken for now."

"I can get a message to LC-9087, Miss Motti," he replied crisply.

Now that wasn't a response I expected. I pushed away from the wall, standing in front of him. "You know him?"

"Yes, Miss Motti. It was imperative to know all aspects of your life in order to accomplish our mission objectives. Up to and including other troopers that have come in contact with you."

"Really? You know everything about me?"

"As much as is necessary for the—"

"Yes, yes," I waved a hand, dismissing the words I knew by heart at this point. "Necessary for the completion of Order Four Zero Alpha mission objectives. I understand that. If you know so much about me, tell me. What is my favorite food?"

"Ruusani apples."

"And my favorite color?"

"Yellow."

"What did my mother have for breakfast the day I was born?"

"Crustaai porridge."

All said with that filtered generic male voice. All true. And all delivered without hesitance. It made me wonder what else they would do without hesitance when so ordered. Was Con issuing orders like that even now? Or even Cassio? Didn't these troopers report to him directly?

Stars, Cassio… what was I going to do about us? Or was I blowing things completely out of proportion? It was only a near-kiss, and I had no idea what his intentions were at any rate. Still, the look of rejection in his eyes when he'd seen me wear another man's flowers, and the look of hope renewed when we both realized what Con had done… Stars, I didn't know. My head was spinning with all I'd seen and experienced in this past week.

All I knew was that somehow I couldn't see Cassio acting like Con in regards to prisoners. I couldn't see him ordering torture.

I flicked a glance at the stormtroopers guarding my door, and felt shame at the flicker of indecision in me. Cassio was a High General of the Empire. If our beloved galaxy was spiraling towards another war, just how far would men like Martio and Cassio go to protect the Empire?

"If you were ordered to… " I began, and then changed my mind. There were some things I really didn't want to know. "You know, never mind. I already know that answer. You'd break me into pieces if you were ordered to do so. Glad we're clear on that."

Righty, so named for always standing to the right of any door I walked through, shifted. "Apologies if we have offended you, Miss Motti."

"You haven't," Even though they had, or rather Imperial Intelligence had. But what did I expect? I was the sister of one of their high Admirals. They'd have to know everything about me. "I think I'm going to call it a night. Oh, and forget about getting a message to… what was his name?"

"LC-9087. His name is—"

"Don't," I shook my head again. "It doesn't matter. He's probably not even here anymore."

"No, Miss Motti. He departed with the Avenger shortly after the gala."

Of course he had. Still, I couldn't help but ask that one final question. "One last thing. If I were a rebel that had stolen precious information, what would happen to me?"

"Detainment first," Righty answered. "Followed by interrogation."

"And if I didn't answer correctly?"

Lefty and Righty exchanged a glance. "I honestly do not know. There is no record of a failure anywhere in reference to interrogation. Assuming that you did answer correctly, you would be executed afterward. Treason and rebellion are not tolerated in the Empire, Miss Motti."

I stepped inside before I asked something else I didn't want to know.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Extra long chapter is extra long! LOL. Apparently my muse wanted to write this, so here it is. Thank you to everyone that has read, reviewed, followed, favorited and sent private messages. This story is better from your input. Truly, it is. :) Special shout out to** Malicean, Hoplite39**, and **Admiral Mitth'raw'nuruodo** for the lovely reviews this time around. :D

Special thanks to **Hoplite39** for the use of several concepts such as order numbers, conditioning drugs, and the use of OCs. Please check out the story ** Loyal soldier of the Empire - Journal of an Imperial Stormtrooper **and **Band of Sisters - The Lost Stormtrooper Company** for a few of the OCs that make appearances here. You'll love both stories, trust me! :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

Like everything else on this battle station, I was routinely depressed. I say routinely because there was nothing but routine. Duty for breakfast every day, responsibility for lunch, and honor for dinner. It shouldn't have been that much of a surprise, given that this was a military installation. Those things should have been expected. Yet I found myself sleeping too much and simply not giving a damn about anything in the past week.

I mean, why should I? My entire future was planned out by my Uncle and brother, my clothing chosen by my new attendant. What was there to care about? So I took a page from the Imperial Handbook and "routinely" stopped caring.

That's when life on the Death Star started to settle into something akin to normalcy, patterns of behavior and habit quickly imprinting themselves upon me. It's amazing how much one can remember of a life they had hated so much, how nightmares can become the reality in the blink of an eye. Only two weeks into my new life as the unofficial Imperial "Gem" of the station, and it felt like my life on Alderaan had been the creation of a sleep-addled imagination, a fleeting fantasy to escape the rut of my daily life.

Every day it was pretty much the same thing: woken by my new personal attendant, Layla, at five in the station's established "morning" for bathing and dressing. I was allowed time for a single cup of tea by myself before I was ushered into Con's private dining room for breakfast with him from six to seven. I was thankful for my depression then. Not caring about anything made pretending that everything was fine, that I hadn't seen him order that poor woman tortured, an easy deception.

My brother wasn't an idiot, though. He knew something was wrong, that something had been wrong since my outing with Admiral Batch. It took forever to convince him that I was merely "homesick" for Alderaan and the friends I had left behind. That it had nothing to do with Martio. In any event, he was distracted with joy at my use of Admiral Batch's first name after only one meeting with the man.

I was faintly surprised he hadn't ordered my wedding gown already.

Instead, I filled breakfast with prattling on about nothing or listening to him go on about the things he was allowed to tell me. And from seven to nine I was left alone, expected to do my "correspondence" and comm. calls with friends during this time. Writing thank you letters to those that had sent me gifts, or just letters to home. The letters I'd written and encrypted to all those vipers in my social class, going on about how wonderful Martio was, and how I sincerely hoped that he'd propose, and what a lovely wife I would be for him. How glorious it was to be on the finest battle station the Empire had ever created. How grand my life was, and how everyone should envy me.

How absolutely full of drivel. I was following Uncle's orders as surely as if I wore a uniform and saluted every time he walked by.

But write them I did, because I was expected to, and because I knew that Uncle read each and every one of them. Until the day that Martio Batch or some other political pawn signed the dowry agreement, Uncle was going to keep me on a very short leash.

I could feel the slave collar tightening around my throat with each passing day, the lock just millimeters from engaging.

From nine to eleven, I was free to wander to the "approved" portions of the station. Free being the operative word. I was always escorted by the ever present stormtrooper duo, and now by Layla. The former always three steps behind me with charged weapons ready. The latter always next to me in case I needed anything. I had to wonder if she was a bodyguard, too. Some sort of assassin hidden behind a face just shy of being truly lovely. Pleasant, unassuming, easy to ignore or forget.

Like the faceless stormtroopers. Stars, was everything here meant to make the eye drift away from it, to never focus on anything or anyone for too long?

The "approved areas" consisted of select cantinas and observation decks, the lounges (when unoccupied by officers, that was), and the tiny shops that displayed their wares. One would think that a military installation would be devoid of these kinds of things. On a station the size of a moon, where not every section could be given a viewport, a certain level of comfort had to be provided. For the sanity of all that served on this mammoth thing.

The shops changed with the sectors the station traveled through, of course. There were no established shopping malls on the Death Star. More like a slice of a few decks wherein kiosks could be erected swiftly and deconstructed just as swiftly without leaving a trace. Making leave time less likely to occur, what with being able to shop for one's self or those they loved, or experience the foods and beverages native to the system they were in, without leaving the comforts of "home."

Efficient, that. And so very sneaky in its controlling nature. No need to log departures of millions of personnel when they had everything to keep them happy and productive right here. Like a form of slavery all its own. How very thoughtful of Uncle to make sure everyone loved their cages so much they never wanted to leave.

From eleven to noon I was expected to nap and "refresh" myself. As from noon to one, it was lunch with Uncle and whatever lackey he deemed worthy of his presence that day. My only saving grace consisted of the fact that the food was always excellent and I wasn't expected to open my mouth other than to eat or drink. Save for tiny fits of laughter at the right time, or to answer a question that was meant only to make me feel like I was included. Not for my benefit, of course, but so as to not offend Uncle by ignoring his niece. At least, it went that route when they realized the invitation to lunch did not include the prospect of marrying Uncle's favorite niece.

Then I was just another… how did Cassio put it? Just another duty, another trial to endure on their unending climb to greater glory.

Cassio… Stars, what was I going to do about that man? I thought about him as I gazed out the viewport at the molten sky of hyperspace, the station moving towards wherever else the Emperor needed it. I was on my second 'free period of the day,' the time between one and three where I was expected to stroll about the more official parts of the station, so that officers of higher rank could see me. So I could gift them with a vision of grace and beauty, to lift their moral with my smile and remind them why they fought for their Empire.

Literally. That was how Uncle had phrased his "suggestion."

_"Little Tessa, my doveling, it pains me to see you so confined to such a small area. Admiral Batch has informed me that he's shown you much of the station in your forays, and the sector commanders are aglow with praise at your visits. Why not continue them? Every man in uniform should be so lucky as to be gifted with a vision of grace and beauty, to lift their moral with your smile and remind them why they fight for our great Empire."_

And like the great coward I was, I obliged him. I let him, Con, and Layla set "a schedule most appropriate" for me that had me fitting seamlessly into the great Imperial War Machine. The only member, I was willing to wager, that was conscripted without having to wear the uniform. That's how I ended up on the grand observation platform once again, pretending to visit with Master Chief Tenn Graneet and his team of master gunnery officers, while the ghosts of gala's past danced through my thoughts.

I had so little time to enjoy them, these ghosts. Soon Layla would move me to my next appointment, to bathe anew and dress again for dinner this time. Always dinner at promptly five, and always with Martio Batch. Which would be promptly followed by another stroll through the station to show me something new. Always to return me to Con by nine. And those precious, wonderful minutes between nine and ten when I was truly, utterly alone in my room. Before the fatigue overtook me, and Con or Layla made the suggestion that I turn in for the night.

I savored those minutes to myself, just as I savored the thoughts that replayed behind my eyes now.

Was it really here that a hidden art museum had existed? Here, where there was nothing more than smooth unbroken panels of durasteel, that had once contained the room that had altered my future so completely? No hidden latch tripped as the warmth of my fingers seeped into that cold metal, no clicking sound, no door swinging open as it had for Cassio. And certainly there was no rush of random wickedness, no sensation of wild abandon that had caused me to let that man, who for years upon years stood as brother to my tormentor and rival, whisk me away to a nearly passionate kiss.

There wasn't even that elusive jolt of erotic heat at the memory of Cassio's hand on the small of my back, his other tipping my head upwards… Stars, what was wrong with me? Had it really been a week that I'd roved about this place like a ghost, myself? Repeating instructed phrases and half-remembered platitudes?

"Moff Tarkin had it removed."

I jerked, feeling the first real emotion since the anger I'd experienced in Uncle's office. A tremulous thread of fear that was quickly squashed in a deluge of unfeeling. Cassio Tagge stood behind me. I could see his faint reflection in the viewport, barely more than a watery ghost. Just as I could see the Master Chief signal to his team to find something else to do on the station. Leaving me alone with Cassio and Layla and my guards.

"Did he?" I asked, voice sounding dull and distant… and perfectly aloof.

"He did," Cassio continued, closing the distance until he stood next to me. One raised hand had my stormtroopers retreating to the farthest corner of the room. A glance from him had Layla's lips firming in a line of disapproval, but she also retreated to a far distance. "The pieces were sold at auction or given away to those that attended the gala. He said he did not want anything to remind him of the night his beloved niece fell so seriously ill under his watch."

Seriously ill… if I had the wherewithal to laugh snidely, I would have. It all seemed like too much effort, and really, what would it get me? Nothing. There was just no use in arguing with anything Uncle said or did. So why bother?

But something about selling or destroying the art bothered me. I felt myself grow faint. "There was a painting from Alderaan in there. The Truth in the Petal, I believe it was called. Was it…"

"That one was purchased by General Bast," he glanced at me, frowning slightly. "Why do you ask? Tessa, are you alright?"

The sensation of tears falling down my cheeks was strange. I had no idea if they were from relief that that painting I'd shared with Admiral Thrawn was safe, or out of how much that painting had cost me, personally, at his hand. I couldn't tell. It was hard to tell much of anything outside of my normal routine these days.

"You're crying," his hands fell onto my shoulders, squeezing faintly. "Tessa, I told you once that you could tell me anything. I meant it. I… I wanted to see you before now. Time and duty would not allow it."

I glanced back at the viewport, not wanting to meet his eyes. "It's okay, Cassio. You don't have to cover for my brother. I know you time and duties would allow for a visit. Just as I know he tossed your gifts and denied you any access to me."

His frown deepened. And one hand slipped beneath my chin, turning my face back to his. "Are you certain you are alright? This isn't like you at all. What happened to that woman that flew in the face of all tradition time and again?"

_She was beaten until she nearly broke, and forced to accept her place. She's being sold like cattle even now, so really, what's the point in fighting anymore?_ "Perhaps it's time I grew up," I found myself saying, all the while a small part of me started to scream. I just had no idea why. "It was a pipe dream, Cassio. To think that they'd let you and I be together at all? The notion is laughable. Domina would rather see you dead, and Con would see me married to a Wookie, first."

I tried to turn away, found his hands like inflexible bars of steel. The look in his eyes just as hard. "That's the only reason? That's why you've agreed to marry Martio Batch?"

All I could do was shrug. "I don't have a choice. _We_ don't have a choice. Even now, I'm certain Uncle is planning your marriage as well. Anything to ensure his political agenda is met. It's who and what we are."

"It's not what I am," he said firmly. "And it's not who you are."

"You are a man. More than that, you are a High General of the Empire. You can make that choice. You know that I can't. Even if I was to say no, Uncle would see Domina wed to Batch. Do you want that for your sister?"

He snorted, eyes still hard. "Domina would be overjoyed at such a union. I would fear more for the Admiral than I would for my sister. You know as well as I that Domina lives for these sorts of things, thrives on scandals and intrigues and political dealings. Tessa, you are not acting like yourself. Come with me to medical right now."

I shook my head, pulling back as he tried to tug me forward. "I can't. I'm just… I'm tired right now, Cassio. Besides, I don't have time. I must be ready for dinner promptly at five."

That must have set off all sorts of alarms in his head. The expression on his face said as much. Certainly that voice that had started screaming was growing louder. Did he see it in my eyes? Did I even care? This was all so dreadfully taxing and dreary and utterly boring. Just another event in a schedule I was forced to keep.

Cassio stepped up to me once more, fingers lacing with mine. "Tessa, how long have you felt like this? Felt tired and bored."

"I've been like this since I was a child, Cassio. You know that."

"No, this is more recent. You are sleeping when you are told to sleep, aren't you. Motti or Tarkin only have to suggest that you are fatigued and you find yourself moving towards your bed. Your schedule, though you hate it, seems more and more reasonable every day. The order of it, the routine, is more refreshing than any rest you have. Tell me any of this is incorrect, Tessa."

This was absurd… wasn't it? It was logical that Con and Uncle would know when I was tired. I grew up with them, for crying out loud! It was also logical that I'd be fatigued all the time. I was depressed, wasn't I? Wasn't that a normal symptom of shock after watching the horror my brother unleashed on that poor girl? Was it so bad that I hid in my schedule to avoid spending time with Con anymore than was necessary because of what I'd seen? That I'd cling to Martio for the distractions he provided so I wouldn't have to see that Theran woman's broken face and fingers every time I closed my eyes?

My silence seemed to indicate my answer.

Real emotion worked into his eyes, an anger so cold it rivaled hyperspace for its intensity. So opposite of Con, I mused absently, who was all heat and flame and explosion. So different from Martio, who seemed to internalize everything and sort it into logical patterns before making a decision. Cassio was the cold of marble, of frozen steel etched with a list of those that crossed him. So he would never make the same mistake again. So he would never forget a wrong.

It had served him so well in his career.

"You are being drugged, Tessa," He said coldly, through clenched teeth.

Oh, for the love of… this was really getting ridiculous. "Now you are the one not acting like yourself," I said. "That's impossible. Who would dare do such a thing to me? Con and Uncle both have systems to detect any drug in any of the food we eat."

"Yes, they do. Which is why I believe they are the ones doing it."

"To what end? Cassio, this is all absurd! I'm not experiencing any symptoms of poisoning."

"It's not a poison, Tessa. At least, not completely. If I'm right, you're ingesting a conditioning drug given to new recruits who pass the tests to become stormtroopers. It leaves the mind susceptible to suggestion in its early stages, adjusting the neural transmitters in your mind to accommodate faster subconscious thought and reflexes. The effects are accelerated if the subject is immediately put onto a rigid schedule, regulating all independent thought to the barest levels. The initial side effects include fatigue, which most attribute to the new, oftentimes harsh, schedule."

My mouth opened and closed and opened again. And that part of me that had started screaming before went eerily silent. Accepting of what was being said, that something was indeed wrong with me.

Oh stars above! If it was true… but wait, wasn't I accepting this suggestion all too easy? If it was true, wasn't he programming me, too? Conditioning me against Con and Uncle? Oh stars, I didn't know… I couldn't know…

"After its early stage, what then?"

Cassio's lips compressed a moment. "The changes become permanent, Tessa. After a month of use, the body begins to reject the drug. The pathways in the mind having adjusted to the desired configuration as assigned by the officer in charge of psychiatric evaluation. A new drug is introduced, less potent than the first, that encourages independent thought within set parameters. Our stormtroopers receive this through their rations, each mix custom tailored to their needs.

"They take it willingly," he continued in a rush, probably at the horror on my face. "Tessa, every man and woman that puts on the white armor wants to be here. Full disclosure is made during every step of the program. They sign a statement of acknowledgement before the first drug is administered. They're tested over and over again for mental acuity and soundness of mind before they are accepted into the program."

"But I'm not in the program. How… how is this happening?"

Some of the coldness left that gaze, and he brought our laced fingers to his lips, kissing them gently. "You said it yourself. 'Anything to make certain his political agenda is met.'"

"Martio," I breathed. "Uncle's making sure I don't screw up and offend Martio. He's… he's making me into the perfect woman, just like I'm certain he promised Martio I would be. Oh, stars… Cass. What-what do I do?"

"Stop eating or drinking anything that's brought to you. Starting now. Get your own food somehow, either buy it in the market or eat in the restaurants or cantinas. There will be withdrawal symptoms. Headaches, periods of deep fatigue or manic actions as your mind slips back to its natural flow of thought. I'll do what I can to have food brought to you, or an agent to counteract the drugs in the food. Don't rely on it, though. Do what you can to secure food for yourself.

"Take up a hobby or two. Shake up your schedule. Make random turns in hallways on impulse. These things promote independent thought," he continued. "If we are right, and you've only suffered the effects for few weeks, a few days should rid your body of it. I'm so sorry, Tessa. I wish I could do more. If this is Tarkin behind it, I've risked us both in saying as much."

"No," I soothed, putting his hands to my lips this time. "No, you've done so much already. Why you even risk yourself for me—"

"Do you even have to ask that?" he said. "Tessa, you are right in that the so-called powers-that-be of our families will not let us be together. I can live with that. Kriff, I've lived with it since you walked into my life at school. What I can't live with is you marrying someone against your will, having your thoughts taken from you. That I will _not_ let happen."

The way he looked at me, his eyes shadowed and clear at the same time, emotions unexpressed in those dark eyes. I was rising up on tiptoe before I knew it. Could we really have that kiss, the one that should have happened in this very place, in an art gallery that no longer existed? His head bent down—

-and I felt the disappointing yet exhilarating rush of his lips on my forehead.

"I am not them," he said against my hair. "I will not kiss you when you are not yourself. I will not steal that from you. When we correct this, we'll revisit the chance again. But not now. I'll not add to your troubles. I promised you that from the beginning."

He stepped back, letting go of my hands and headed in the direction of the turbolift. Once again I was left alone on the dance floor, the specters of what could have been alive in my thoughts. Only the sharp gaze of Layla as it stabbed into Cassio's back brought me to the present. That, and the loud snap of stormtrooper boots coming to attention behind me.

"Come, my lady," Layla said in her pleasant voice, slipping her arm companionably through mine. "That horrible man has taken too much of your time. We'll have to carve out some time later tomorrow to visit with Master Chief Graneet again. I'm certain he's upset that his time with you was cut so short. Now let's think on pleasant things, shall we? Like dinner tonight with Admiral Batch. He's such a gentleman as compared to other unsavory types here on the station."

Her eyes flickered back to the turbolift, her gaze looping Cassio in with "unsavory" elements. And stars help me, but I found myself nodding. Found it so much easier to agree that Martio, with his gifts and delighted smile at any question I ask and tolerance of my strange exploration notions of the station, was the better man for me. A bright future of wealth and affluence… and all it would cost me was my free will.

Oh how wrong I had been in thinking Uncle only controlled my flesh.

* * *

I stared at the glass of water that Layla had set on my vanity table, fighting to keep my hands in my lap. They wanted to reach forward, to do as she suggested and sip the cool, refreshing liquid. My mouth was dry, parched with the thought of how delicious it would taste. Would one sip really be that bad? Something to moisten my lips, maybe, so they weren't so withered with thirst. Yes, I should do that. I should at least wet my lips so that Martio wouldn't find them unresponsive and rough—

"Oh my!" I exclaimed, backhanding the glass with a vengeance. Just anything to remove the temptation from me. Liquid and crystal both hit the wall with a satisfying crashing sound. "I'm so sorry, Layla. How clumsy of me."

"Were you hurt?" Layla exclaimed, rushing back into the room and taking my hand. Searching for shards.

"No, thankfully," my laugh was a little strained. How I wanted that drink! "I'm…. well…. It's just nerves, I guess," I lied quickly. "About the dinner tonight. It's been a week now, and Con expects an announcement of intent to negotiate for my hand at any moment now."

She laughed sweetly. "What an amazing bride you will be, my lady. The envy of every man and woman in the Empire! Mayhap your event will eclipse Wynnsa Starflare and Baron Fel's wedding for its grandeur."

I shook my head with a rueful grin that felt more like a grimace. "I'm not that popular as a holonet star like Wynssa, nor is Martio a hot-shot TIE pilot like the Baron. He's a scientist primarily, and I like my privacy. Most likely we'll want a quiet affair so he can get back to work as soon as possible."

Layla's smile deepened. "You sell yourself short, my lady. Just look at yourself," she steered me back to the vanity, picking up a brush and running it through my hair. "You are more enchanting than any holonet floozy. Baroness now or not, you know Wynssa came from common stock. You have breeding and natural beauty. Hair soft and dark as good sable cloth, eyes that are large and sparkle like amethysts. And none of it a trick of the camera or chemically enhanced. You are twice the beauty of Baroness Fel. So much so that your Admiral will wish to spend decades with you instead of researching this or that."

My Admiral… as if he was the one being sold to me and not the other way around.

I swallowed to try and work moisture into my throat. It felt like years since I'd had something to drink, not merely a few hours. "You forget that the newly created Baroness is the Emperor's favorite holonet star. Did you that the Emperor, himself, offered her the leading female role in _The Mercy of Emperor Palpatine_?"

"Truly?" Layla answered, working my curls into a stack on the back of my head, securing it with a bejeweled hair net. "I didn't realize the Emperor had consented to having his opera made into a holodrama."

"He did," I found myself saying, really giggling. Losing myself again in the suggestions of conversation. I had to focus harder! "She turned it down, with gracious apologies to His Majesty, as she was pregnant with her first child. The filming would be too much of a strain on the baby. He graciously accepted her reason."

"That is the glory of the Emperor for you. How one man could be so magnanimous and still keep himself from being taken advantage of by that corrupted Senate with its blathering, ungrateful senators, I'll never know. Did you see the latest outrage against our loving ruler?"

"No, I didn't."

"It's that Alderaan Senator causing trouble again. That Leia Organa child. Now she is protesting the creation of the Super Star Destroyers! Her and that Mon Mothma woman," She sniffed irritably. "They called the project a waste of resources. Imagine, calling the mightiest ship in the fleet a 'waste.' If I were Empress, I'd have their tongues pulled from their lying mouths and nailed to the doors of the Senate building as a reminder of what happens to those that waste my time. Of all the things our Empire faces, they choose that to filibuster over. Not worlds facing poverty or hunger. Not threats from rebelling planets. No, they choose something the Senate approved years and years ago. I tell you, there is no justice in the Senate anymore. Just a bunch of decadent self-important children."

I frowned before I could stop myself. "Maybe she had a point…" I tried. I had no love for Leia, at least not since we graduated school and went our separate ways. But Cassio had said to be different, random.

Layla's snort of derision let me know that she disagreed with me. "Well, if she did, my lady, it was so far hidden in her words that no one understood it. They say that tensions with Alderaan are getting so bad that the Senate has approved a special Envoy to mediate with Queen Breha and Prince Organa, completely bypassing their radical daughter."

"Let's hope the envoy can bring peace," I hedged. "We don't want another system in open revolt like Contruum."

"You can add Chandrila to that list, too, my lady."

I jerked at that, spinning to face her and nearly undoing all of Layla's work. "The Chandrila system is in rebellion, too?"

"More like occupation now," Layla went on, delicately turning my face back to the mirror and securing the last of the gemstones to my hair. "His Majesty sent in legions of his best troops to pacify the planet. Once they agree to the sanctions against them for this outrage, I'm certain the whole thing will go away. Unles, the Emperor, in his grand wisdom, may see greater mercy in making an example of that planet with harsher penalties. It all depends on what he feels is best of the galaxy at large. Sanctions may not be enough. Stars knows it didn't work for Contruum."

"No, it didn't," I found myself agreeing, and then bit my tongue behind my lips until I tasted blood. There, that was lubricant enough. Maybe a moistened mouth would keep a loose tongue from just agreeing with every insipid suggestion sent my way. "Did they say which envoy was sent to Alderaan?"

Layla paused in fastening a matching jeweled bracelet around my wrist, lips pursed in thought. "I know they did. I don't remember. Apologies, my lady. I will have that information for you when you return from dinner. Now, let's think on some happier topics while we get you into your dress. I hear that your brother has ordered your favorite meal prepared in a private dining room. He's such a good man, so caring just like our Emperor…"

I stopped listening, my mouth watering at the thought of what waited for me. Which meant I had to find a way not to eat it. Somehow I knew that knocking my plate off the table wouldn't work. I had to… I just had to… But it was so hard to think past the headache blooming behind my eyes. So much so that I barely felt the dress slipping onto me, the waist drawn in tightly. All the while Layla was going on about how good my brother was to look out for me, how dashing Admiral Batch was, and what a lovely future I had in store for me.

Before I knew it, I was crossing the foyer and into the waiting arms of Martio. Drawing his mouth down to mine, and filling my head with the sweet, sweet, thoughts of a future filled with luxury and affluence.

* * *

"I have a surprise for you," Martio said, a smile on his lips that I was coming to call mischievous.

I couldn't help but smile back, patting his arm were it entwined with mine. Couldn't help but think that Con and Layla were right. This was the best match for me. Why ever had I thought differently?

"You don't have to give me anything, Martio," I replied, walking beside him down to the private dining hall. "My time with you has been my greatest gift since arriving on this station."

That smile became tender, his arm drawing me closer in a way that was just shy of too intimate. "You, my dear Tessa, are everything your Uncle promised and more. I wonder what a young woman like yourself would find in an old scientist like me."

I squeezed his arm affectionately, giving a ladylike sniff of mock-derision. "If you are going on again about the differences in our ages, I'll kindly remind you—for the millionth time, my dear Martio—that there is only twenty-five years between us. You, sir, will not leave your prime for another forty years. And with medical advances, I can see the average lifespan extending to one hundred and fifty instead of the one hundred and twenty we so enjoy now. Besides, matches have been arranged with far wider gaps in age than ours."

"If you are referring to the negotiation going on between Imperial Captain Avel Kand and the young Miss Estille Praji, then, yes, I would have to agree. The Young Miss isn't of marriageable age yet, and the good Captain is well into his sixties. However, I do not foresee much happiness in that union for either side, given that Captain Kand has grandchildren older than his prospective bride."

I shrugged at that. "Would it shock you to know that the arrangement for my marriage was completed when I was twelve? Hardly a marriageable age, either. I am thankful that Estille is at least seventeen now and very much aware of what is going on around her."

He didn't exactly pause in mid-stride as he slanted a rather considering look in my direction. "Twelve? If I may ask, what stopped the union from occurring when you reached the age of majority?"

The sly smile I slanted his way in return had his eyebrows arching fractionally. "My eldest brother, Eldritch, had a clause put into the marriage contract that the union was not complete until we both signed it. As it stands, I was beginning my diplomatic foray to the galaxy the day before I was to sign. It appears that Count Averstan decided not to wait for me to finish and sought another bride."

"I see. You ran away, and your Uncle found another to marry the man, freeing you up for a different union."

The blunt way he had put that had me missing a step. And laughing despite myself when he caught me. "Martio, you are full of surprises," I smiled. "If you knew all of this, why are you still here? To turn your original question back unto you, what could an honored Grand Admiral want with a flighty, unruly girl like me with a history of ignoring her elders?"

"Ray shafts."

I blinked. "I beg your pardon."

"I have never crawled through a ray shaft before, while in uniform, chasing a woman who is wearing a formal dress, while on a battle station," he said simply, taking my arm and continuing our walk. "Nor have I ever met a woman so uninterested in me, or more to the point, what political advantage I could give her, and instead spent all her time asking intelligent questions about a battle station. I can't decide if you truly do not care a whit about me, or if your lack of interest indicates that you care too much."

"So you are saying that the way to capture your interest is to ignore you?"

"No. I am saying the way you have captured my interest was to ignore me and instead present the most unusual social enigma. That has been your second greatest gift to me."

"What was the first?"

"Turning down Averstan and allowing me the opportunity to unravel that enigma."

"Ah, so when you have unlocked my puzzle, shall I be another scientific oddity you've collected? Will you grow bored and move on?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"If we marry, will you be unlikely to crawl through ray shafts on a whim?"

It was my turn to smile with that mischievous tilt to my lips. "On the contrary, I'll probably be more inclined to do so. As the High Lady Batch, I'll have a stronger name than Motti to hide behind when trouble finds me. Be forwarned, Martio. If you give me your name, I'll give you no end of difficulty in return."

His arm left mine, tucking me under it instead. And stars help me, I leaned into the warmth of his chest. "Then I will have the one thing every scientist both craves and fears: the unanswerable enigma. The unsolvable puzzle. The very thing a lifetime of research can never unravel, and still that life will not be considered a waste."

I beamed up at him. "That is the sweetest thing you could have ever said to me."

He placed a kiss upon my forehead. "That you see the compliment in that, is one of the sweetest gestures you have ever shown me."

"Then I win," I grinned.

"Win?"

"Yes, by that last statement, your argument regarding our age difference is utterly invalid. We will challenge each other forever. Therefore, I will no longer accept it from you."

His laughter rang out in the corridor. "Quite so, Tessa. What is it that you claim as your reward?"

An open ended question if ever there was one. And I did the one thing that all the voices in my head told me not to do. Random, I had to be random if I was going to beat this, right?

I stepped rapidly in front of him, grabbed the front of his dress uniform, and pulled him down into a deep, bold kiss. Not so bold for its passion or its length, but from the sheer fact that it was taking place in the middle of a hallway! Where anyone could walk past! Not that I expected anyone to, a part of me groused. Knowing Uncle, there would not be a single living being in this entire hemisphere of the station to possibly witness any slips in decorum. Not a soul to disrupt the unfolding of his political agenda.

He was shocked, alright. That was a given. But he was also a smart man, and before I knew it he had taken control of that kiss, pulling me in tight against him and nearly lifting me from the floor.

"Quite the risk-takers, aren't we?" I found myself asking when my feet touched the floor again and breath returned to my lungs. "Anyone could have seen us."

"I am not ashamed to have you on my arm, Tessa. I am not ashamed of being seen like this."

"I warned you I have a reputation for trouble. It could besmirch your good name having your kisses stolen by someone such as me."

His laughter rang out in the corridor, warm and inviting. "So now it is my reputation that is on the line? Need I remind you that I am a Grand Admiral, my Tessa? There is little that can challenge me."

"Oh, give me time, my arrogant Admiral," I chided playfully, tapping a finger on his chest. "If I can make Uncle have fits, I'm certain I can do the same to you."

"Then challenge accepted, but only on one condition," He caught that tapping finger, bringing it to his lips. "That you allow me give you that surprise I mentioned. You are in such high spirits today that I'm afraid it won't have the impact I was hoping for. I suppose I shall have to try harder in the future."

High spirits today? What did that mean?

He took my arm again before I could ask, leading me towards the largest dining room. A touch of dread wormed through the sudden lightheartedness that had washed over me with my random actions. With the actions that had been more "me" than I had been in the past week. Granted, I was probably experiencing the 'manic' side of the withdraw that Cassio had mentioned. But my head was spinning in a way that was welcomed instead of the pervasive sense of … nothing… that had cloaked my heart in the wake of those drugs.

Maybe that was what Martio meant by his comment. That he'd noticed something wrong in me was baffling! How in the stars had he noticed when I hadn't?!

So the dread I felt seemed to amplify itself, so much so that I nearly lost my footing. That dining room, the one we were rapidly approaching, belonged exclusively to Uncle. Which could only mean one thing—Uncle was joining us. Which in turn probably meant that Con was in there as well, and a great big marriage contract was the main course of the night. Just waiting for Martio's signature. I didn't need to bet on the fact that Con and Uncle would have removed that clause that required my signature. And just like that, I would be Lady Batch. I would walk through those doors a free woman and walk out sold at top dollar.

The actual marriage ceremony with its pomp and circumstance would be all for show. Everyone in the social elite knew that marriages really happened in closed offices, once the dowry was agreed upon and signatures made.

Was I getting married tonight? Was that the surprise?

My steps started to falter, my head pounding in time with a thundering pulse that had nothing to do with Martio's stolen kisses. The clichéd cold feet was all I could think about, my breath coming a little too fast. Suddenly all the bantering in the hallway, all of Layla's softly poisonous words of my future with Martio evaporated in a wave of terror. I couldn't marry him tonight. Not with all those unresolved feelings for Cassio chasing through my head! That notwithstanding, like Cassio, I wanted my marriage to be _MY _choice. Not when I was subdued by drugs I'd never agreed to take!

"Tessa," Martio asked, coming to a stop, all smile and good humor vanishing. "Are you alright? You are pale again. More so than in the past few days. Are you certain you are yourself?"

_NO! NO, I'VE BEEN DRUGGED! I'M NOT MYSELF. YOU'RE COURTING A LIE, A FICTIONAL PERSON MY UNCLE IS TRYING TO TURN ME INTO! PLEASE DON'T DO THIS. DON'T MARRY ME WHEN I DON'T LOVE YOU. I DON'T EVEN LOVE MYSELF RGHT NOW. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON'T DO THIS!_

"Quite alright," I found myself saying instead. "Just fatigued, Martio. Nothing to worry over."

"You have been quite fatigued for several days now, Tessa. I am growing concerned that your sickness has returned. Should we go to medical instead?"

That dread was growing worse with each passing second. Stars, I couldn't let that happen. What would he think if he found out the truth? Was he part of it to begin with? Would he even care? He had to know that I didn't love him. And yet love wasn't necessarily a requirement in marriage anymore. One only had to look at Aunt Thalassa and Uncle Wil to see that. He never looked at Aunt Thalassa the way he looked at Admiral Daala. Though I had to wonder what she thought of him sleeping with someone so openly…

I shook my head. My mind was bouncing all over the place, going manic on me as Cassio had stated. But again, I couldn't tell if that was a true side effect or if I was undergoing it simply because he had suggested it! Just how often did I need a 'hit' of that drug to stay on target, how often was it put in my food? Layla brought me tea in the morning, and then I had breakfast with Con, and then tea with my correspondence, and then water after my resting period, and then dinner, and then more tea and more water before bed and … and…

I knew my mind had wandered yet again when Martio swept me off my feet, hurrying back towards the turbolift. The look on his face was pure concern, mixed with a tinge of upset.

"No, Martio, please. I'm fine. I'm—"

"Tessa, you should know by now that I do not appreciate falsity or platitudes. If you are unwell, I expect you to rest. I assure you, I am a grown man that can handle having his dinner plans changed abruptly. What I cannot handle is you harming yourself to make me happy."

"I'm not sick, Martio. Please."

"You are shaking like a leaf in my arms, your skin is cool to the touch, and your eyes are slightly dilated. Adding the fact that you are as white as my uniform leads me to a different conclusion."

I had to think fast. I couldn't let him take me to medical. What if Uncle found out? He'd know I was trying to kick the drug. Then what would he do? More than strap my back with his belt, that was for sure!

"Martio, it's not that… It's…. It's what we saw," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut against a sudden wave of tears. At the guilt from the pseudo-lie I'd told him. "I'm having nightmares. I can't sleep and when I do, it's filled with images of that woman and her broken face and…"

He set me on my feet, silencing me with a finger to my lips. "That's why you have been behaving so oddly of late?"

I nodded against his finger, fighting back more tears.

"You should have told me," he sighed, drawing me back into his arms. "Tessa, if this is to work between us in any way, you must be honest with me. When you are upset, it is my duty—no, my _right_—to set the matter straight."

I glanced up at him through my lashes. "You aren't disappointed in my weakness?"

"Weakness?" He shook his head. "I would be more concerned if you did not show such reactions to that horror. I will be honest with you as I want you to be honest with me. There are things that your brother and I do, that your uncle and your friend Cassio Tagge do, that are less than gentle. We don't like doing them, but sometimes harsh actions are the only ones that lead to peace."

"Wh…what happened to Miss Tharen?" I dared to ask.

He took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. "Do you really wish to know?"

NO! "Yes."

"She finally answered your brother's questions. Two days ago, she was executed as a rebel sympathizer and traitor to the Empire."

I felt the breath woosh out of me in a rush, so much so that Martio's arm at my waist was the only thing keeping me upright. "Was it quick?"

"Yes. Her execution was very fast and painless as possible for her crimes."

I didn't like the way he said that. It implied that her death could have been horribly slow and agonizing, but as swift as the law would allow for that particular crime. Still, he was trying to be gentle and honest about a brutal and horrible topic. I saw where he was going and I appreciated the effort. And I felt a tension in him, in the arm around me. As if realizing he'd left a verbal door wide open between us. I could ask him anything now, and he either had to answer or go back on his word of honesty.

"I won't ask," I said, lifting a shaking hand to his cheek. "I can't promise that I will never ask you about your work. I can say that I won't ask right now. What you do will not change my opinion of you, Martio Batch. I just hope I haven't spoiled your opinion of me with my selfish brainless ways this past week."

The tension drained from him, and he turned his head to place a kiss in my palm. "My opinion of you grows every day, my Tessa." His arm stayed around my waist, guiding me back down the hall and away from the lift. "Let's pick a better topic for our evening, like the surprise I have in store for you."

I had no more reason to stall, and so with a sinking heart I stepped towards those doors to that dining room. At least, I tried to console myself, if I was married tonight, Con would have no further need to drug me. The deed would have been done, and knowing Uncle's drive to see things done properly and immediately, he would have the signed agreement spread to every possible database within minutes.

Those doors parted… and for the second time in as many minutes, the breath whooshed from my lungs. "Andryl!"

I was running before I knew it, being swept up into a fierce hug by the man in question. "Tessa," he laughed, swinging me around. "Surprise!"

"How? Why… that is to say, how and why are you here?"

He set me down, glancing over at the Admiral. "When Admiral Batch told me that you could use a friendly face for a visit, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. I almost didn't believe him when he told me you were on the Death Star. You, the most anti-political woman I'd ever known."

I didn't care what Martio thought. I stuck my tongue out at Andryl, at my childhood best friend. And grinned ear to ear when the great Senator Andryl Kuron, the galaxy's foremost negotiator of peace between so many trade disputes and the like, screwed up his refined features and return it.

And was rewarded by hearing Martio laugh. "I should leave you to your reunion then. So long as you promise to protect my Tessa and see to it that she rests, Senator Kuron."

Andryl bowed, and for the first time I noticed he was wearing his official senatorial medallion and robes. "Allow me to take the moment provided by my tongue-tied friend and deeply thank you for this chance at reunion. I owe you a great debt, and will begin to repay it by protecting her with my life."

"You may need to. Tessa is known for her usual request," Martio winked at me. "If you would permit me to join you for dessert, I would consider it payment enough."

Dessert… I noted the food spread out on the table, the aroma of my favorite dishes enough to make my knees go weak.

"Wait," I called out, swallowing several times. The desire to dive right into that pile of deliciousness, it was damn near a psychological craving. If either man left, I would do just that. Fall upon it like a rabid animal. "You have challenged me, my dear Martio."

He turned back, lifted an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Well you can't tell my best friend that I am still the same woman I was when he knew me, and then leave me no opportunity to prove myself."

He folded his arms across his chest, the look on his face stern. And yet that mischievous amusement colored his eyes. "What do you suggest, then?"

"Dinner out," I stammered quickly, grabbing Andyrl's arm and nearly running Martio over in my haste to get out of that room. Did I smell the drug at some subconscious level? Is that what was giving me the shakes and headache all over again? "At a restaurant of my choosing. Unless that is too wild for either of you brave men?"

Andryl looked at Martio and Martio looked back at him, both men scrambling to get out of my way and keep up at the same time. Both utterly at a loss as to what to do with me. Well, that made three of us, then, didn't it.

"Challenge accepted," Andryl replied at length, chuckling as he looped his arm thorugh mine, tugging me to a stop so that Martio could take my other. "The lady wants an adventure, so an adventure it shall be."

I nearly wilted with relief when the turbolift closed us in together. "You never told me what brought you here," I said, trying to regain my composure. "Aside from visiting me, that is."

"Oh, I thought you would have heard. The Emperor has selected me to mediate the dispute with Alderaan."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Much love and shout-outs to **Hoplite39** and **Malicean** for the lovely reviews, and to everyone for reading and sending private messages. You guys are awesome.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

"He's not the one for you," Andyrl said gently.

I blinked, jerking my gaze away from the hallway and Martio's retreating back. Beside him walked the elusive General Moradmin Bast and Colonel Maximilian Veers. The former had been genuinely pleased to see me, finding my interest in the painting he'd purchased vastly amusing. So much so that he had invited myself and my entourage to view the painting any time I so desired. Sadly, he turned down Martio's offer to purchase it from him, stating that he, himself, had merely been an intermediary and had purchased it from the Grand Moff at the behest of another.

The look he'd given me when speaking those words was significant, as if I should have understood just for whom he was working. But for the life of me, I couldn't put the clues together. My head was fuzzy again, wrapped in that terrible moment between wanting to agree with what anyone said to me and fighting to maintain my own individuality.

That was the part that Cassio had not mentioned in our brief conversations regarding my "conditioning." The most painful part of this whole process was the loss of self. Well, that wasn't entirely true. I was still who I had always been, but it was more like I was a watered down version of me, a pale shadow that was making way for whatever my "conditioner" was implanting. The more of the drug I consumed, the harder it was to hold myself together.

Not that I'd consumed much of it recently, which really was the frightening thing. In the past week I'd managed to dump the tea and water that Layla brought to me when she wasn't looking, or to outright not touch it while babbling at her about my coming marriage to Martio. That seemed to stifle her desire to push the cups of liquid at me, chatting on and oftentimes directing the conversation with a subtle twist of a word. The more time I spent in her presence, the more I was convinced she wasn't simply an "experienced lady's companion."

She was in on this conditioning thing somehow. I just didn't have it in me to find out how or why. And the more she directed the conversations, the more I forgot about trying to find those answers thanks to the minute amounts of the drug I was forced to consume. At breakfast with Con, I was able to secretly drop the antigen Cassio gave me into my drink or sprinkle it onto my food. Other times in the day, I sought out Andyrl or Martio for meals, the two clinging to my "amusing notion" to sample every delight that was brought onto the Death Star's market or cantina at random.

The times I was forced to consume the drug was in Uncle's presence at lunchtime. There was no way I could "sprinkle this new spice I'd discovered" onto my meals with him, or accidently bump my plate, or even blabber away so he did not notice my lack of appetite. Uncle was always precise, controlled, and noticed damn near everything that happened in his presence, especially when the only thing to distract him was me, his plate, and whoever else joined us for lunch.

I had no choice but to eat and drink a little, never more thankful that women were expected to eat like birds. Still, it was enough of an infusion of the drug my body now craved with every breath that I left feeling lightheaded and oftentimes unaware of how or when I'd made the decision to go back to my room and "rest."

Probably because it hadn't been my decision. Probably because Uncle had tired of his favorite toy and told it to go back to its box until he was ready to be amused by it again.

"Tessa, did you hear me?"

I blinked again, unaware that my gaze had slid back to the turbolift, locking onto Martio's until the doors closed. "I-I'm sorry?"

Andyrl chuckled, taking my arm and turning me back to the viewport, this one boasting an impressive view of the mixing of Con's personal Fleet with that of Lord Vader's. Near twelve Star Destroyers jockeyed for orbital positions in that star-bedecked parking lot. The Death Star may have been the size of a small moon, but choked as it was with a collar of Capitol ships, it seemed tiny, indeed.

"I said that while Admiral Batch seems quite smitten with you, he isn't the one for you."

I shoved a bit of fruit in my mouth so I wouldn't automatically agree with him, chewed and swallowed. "You make it sound like I have a choice."

"Don't you?"

"Not a one," I said instantly. "No more than you had a choice when you married Setalle Comark."

"You forget that Setalle and I were already in love when my family approached hers."

I couldn't help but grin impishly. "Much to the chagrin of her brother, Jesco. That man still has it out for you, doesn't he?"

"With every fiber of his being," Andyrl returned my impish grin. "So much so that I was certain to name our first son Jessain, in his honor."

"More like to remind the man that his nephew forever shares your less than worthy Mid-rim blood."

He shrugged lightly, still grinning. "You accuse me of using my son to further a vendetta with my brother-in-law."

"You, sir, are a dirty politician. I wouldn't put anything past you. Just like I'll warn you that Jesco is now Moff Jesco Comark. You may have more power as a Senator at the moment, but I'll remind you that Moffs have a tendency of having the final say in the systems they rule these days. Just look at the running of this battle station. Uncle is the law here. Not the Grand Admiral that outranks him, nor the High General that serves on his ruling council."

The grin faded from his lips, something of a troubled light replacing the enjoyment in his eyes. "No truer words have been spoken in quite some time."

I sighed, squeezing his arm tight. "I'm sorry, Andy. I didn't mean to bring up a sore subject."

"Never be ashamed of stating the truth," he countered. "And what you've said is very much the truth. I've spoken with many a Senator from outer rim territories and a few inner rim as well. What you just said is an eerie echo of their previous words. The Moffs appointed by the Emperor are supposed to only assist and advise the duly elected senators on military endeavors in their systems. More and more, these Moffs are assuming duties they don't have the authority to oversee."

"That's because more and more systems are falling to the false words of this rebellion. Security falls under the realm of the Galactic Army and Navy, I'm sure."

That time he came to a stop, pulling me to one along with him. "What did you say?"

"It's true," I shrugged, meeting his gaze. "That's why you're going to Alderaan, isn't it? To stop that system from going into open rebellion against our Emperor, may he rule forever."

"Since when did you start spouting that line?"

There was heat to his voice, something I had never thought to hear directed at me. Andyrl had the reputation of being the most level-headed Senator in the galaxy, so much so that he was being touted as the next "Senator Amidala" for his ability to call for diplomacy and have it actually work, as well as reminding the Senate with impassioned words of the foundation of freedom. All within the context of the Emperor's Peace and Law. Unlike Senator Mothma and Senator Organa…

Just the thought of those women made my blood boil. How dare they go against everything we were taught to love and uphold?

"Since I've been forced to accept the realities of my situation," I said, eyeing him carefully. "You are a member of the Imperial Senate, oversaw by the benevolence of the Emperor, himself. How could you not 'spout that line?'"

"I'm a servant of democracy, Tess. I always have been. It's you that I had to worry about in terms of the Emperor's Peace. You who always rebelled against nearly every rule and law thrown at you as a child."

I shrugged again. "I'm no longer a child. And I'm about to become the wife of a Grand Admiral, not to mention gaining a place at the Imperial Court because of it. It's better if I get used to spouting that line now rather than not doing it when expected to. That kind of mistake could be considered treason on Imperial Center."

"Which brings me back to my previous statement. He's not the one for you."

"And see my previous statement about how little choice I have in the matter," I sighed, rubbing at my temples. "Andyrl, please don't argue with me over this. Just accept it as a matter of course. Look at it as I have come to look at it. He's kind to me, gentle with me, and he listens when I speak. I may not have the ability to counterman any of his decisions when we're married, but it could be worse. And who knows, love may grow between us at some point."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Layla nodding, an affectionate smile on her lips. And inwardly I cursed. Wasn't this the very logic she'd used on me?

Andyrl took my hands in his again, a sad smile on his lips. "I never thought you would be the one to settle for an arranged marriage. If this is truly what you want, then I'll support you. You're my oldest friend and you've always supported me. But as your friend, I'll say this one last time. He's not the one for you. He'll cherish and protect you. He'll give you anything you ask, so long as you do everything he asks. That's not love, Tessa. And you should experience that once."

_I am not them... I will not kiss you when you are not yourself. I will not steal that from you. When we correct this, we'll revisit the chance again. But not now. I'll not add to your troubles. I promised you that from the beginning._

Cassio's words, his vow to me as plain and open as any vow could be. And the echo of emotion I'd felt then, even heavily medicated with conditioning drugs, had filled me with such warmth and safety. More so than a thousand of Martio's passionate kisses.

"I have," I found myself whispering. And then gave myself a firm shake, strengthening my words. "But I can't be with him. Trust me when I say that. And Martio may not love me, but he cares on some level. And I'll take that over—"

The deck beneath us shuddered in a way I recognized, indicating that the station had started to move. And with shock, Andyrl turned towards the viewport. The molted blue-white of hyperspace greeted our eyes, my eyes widening just as much as his.

"Weren't you supposed to leave the station in a few hours?" I asked.

"Yes," he blurted, staring at the hyperspace tunnel as if it were somehow a joke, a trick. "The repairs to my ship were completed yesterday. We were to head to Alderaan when the refueling was complete."

"Something must have happened," I whispered. "Uncle wouldn't move the station unless something major—do you think another system has gone into rebellion? Do you think we're heading into combat?"

In unison we both turned eyes down that corridor, the one that Martio had walked through not twenty minutes ago. It hadn't occurred to me why a General, a Colonel, and an Admiral had come to escort him away so abruptly. With as many rotating escorts as I've had in the past three weeks, it really didn't register as a concern. But it should have, and for the millionth time I cursed this drug and what it was doing to me.

Something along those lines must have registered for Andyrl, too. "I have a sinking feeling that we might. Why else would they pull a Grand Admiral away with such a powerful escort?"

I shivered, stepped closer to my friend. Now that I thought about it, there had been a shift in Martio's expression the moment he'd turned to those officers. Gone was the pleasant smile, the kind light that I was used to seeing in his eyes. Something coldly regal, commanding and frightening had replaced it. Something that I'd seen on Con's and Cassio's faces when their respective aides pulled them from me for some bit of station business.

Yet for some reason it was more disturbing on Martio's visage than on the others. I shivered again. "Kriff, Andyrl. What is happening to this galaxy?"

"I don't know," He answered, putting an arm around my shoulder for his comfort as much as for my own. "And I'm afraid to find out."

* * *

Hours passed before the station reverted to real space. Hours in which my frustrated best friend tried unsuccessfully to have a signal sent to… anyone, really. It was nigh impossible to send a transmission while inside hyperspace. Too much of a chance of it becoming garbled as subspace was just a tad slower than hyperspace. I didn't know all the logistics of the situation. I just knew the realities of it.

Andyrl knew, too, thought that didn't stop him from trying.

I sat and watched as he paced the length of the lounge, a snap to his tone as he issued commands to the staff he'd been allowed to bring onto the Death Star with him. Attendants moved about in a flurry, bringing him this data pad or that, running off to find this officer or that at his request. It was almost like watching Con while at work. Only less efficient, I was forced to admit. Con would never have tolerated half the excuses that Andyrl accepted from his staff. Then again, Con was a high ranking officer, used to having a staff every bit as disciplined and trained as he was. Andyrl's staff was comprised of civilians, and though while well educated and experienced, it wasn't the same.

Stars, I'd spent too long surrounded by military types if I was beginning to approve of their presence more than anyone else.

I flicked a glance to my left and right, finding my case in point. The first few days of having a permanent stormtrooper presence had been the most annoying thing I had ever experienced in my life. It's harder than you think to walk in step with two people just a step or two behind you. There's no room to randomly change your mind on where you wanted to go or to do. You just couldn't spin around and go a different direction. I'd lost count of the many times I'd slammed right into a white-armored chest trying that.

And then had to assure the man or woman (I still couldn't tell through that filtered mechanical voice) that it wasn't their fault.

Don't get me started on what happens when you try to play games with them. Like taking a step forward. Then a step back. Then two steps forward and three steps back. It was one of the only times that Cassio had the leeway to get me into a room alone with him. And it hadn't been to talk or kiss or anything like that. It had been to lecture me on how to be 'respectful' of the men that put their lives on the line for mine. That was followed by a four hour course ensuring I knew how to move or where to move if I happened to be attacked.

There's an art to that, believe it or not. I had to learn how to move so that my escorts could move without colliding into me if a fight broke out.

After taking that training, my escorts were no longer annoying. They were just… there and not there. Like shadows glimpsed from the corner of the eye. And as my fear ratcheted up in this situation, I was more and more glad for their presence, going so far as to automatically fall into that training Cassio had given me. Hence how I was seated in the corner of the lounge, the one closest to the door and most clear of obstacles if I had to move quickly. I was doing the relaxation breathing exercises so that I was loose and limber, ready to be pulled or shoved without resistance should one of my escorts find it necessary.

I couldn't tell, but I think they also visibly relaxed at that. As if they recognized what I was doing and so they could stop worrying about me 'being in the way' of my own protection. So much so that when Andyrl snapped at someone in irritation, a white-armored hand landed gently on my shoulder. Reassuring, almost. As if to say I had nothing to fear in his/her presence.

I smiled up at the trooper, nodding once. Really feeling safe in his/her presence. And I had no idea if that had anything to do with the drugs, or if that was really me accepting the protection.

"No luck?" I asked, watching Andyrl slump into a chair near me.

"None," he groused, tossing his comlink onto the table between us. "No one will tell me where we are heading or why. Just the usual runaround that all departures have been placed on hold until the station reverts to real space. They 'appreciate' my compliance in this matter."

"Welcome to my life," I sighed. "Since the moment I set foot on this station, I haven't had the foggiest idea where we were going."

"My lady," Layla said gently, and I sighed again, knowing what she was going to suggest. "Perhaps if we—"

"The Lady Tessa is going to do exactly what she said she'd do the last three thousand times you suggested 'retreating to more comfortable accommodations.'" Andyrl interrupted, true annoyance flashing in his eyes. "Grand Admiral Batch told her to wait here for him. That's exactly what we intend to do."

"The Grand Admiral did not anticipate how long he would be away," Layla sniffed with her own annoyance. "Lady Tessa is not a member of your entourage, Senator, and I doubt Admiral Batch would approve of her remaining here when her quarters are much more suited to such things."

"Her quarters do not have viewports in them," he countered. "And I'm very much interested in seeing where we arrive the moment we arrive."

"Her quarters are equipped with viewscreens that can provide the same view. Perhaps more given that the monitors can zoom in on any specific detail you desire," she turned away from him. "Lady, please come with me. It has been four hours now and well beyond the appointed luncheon with your Uncle."

"Uncle canceled that luncheon," I said, wrapping my arms around myself to keep from reaching out to her hand. "I would prefer to stay with Andyrl, as Martio suggested. And if he's refusing to come to my quarters, then I'll say here."

"Then allow me to order a repast brought to you—"

"My staff is already doing that," Andyrl replied with a snap of cool finality to his tone. "Miss Al-Fatin, I do not precisely know the nature of your dislike for my presence, though I highly recommend you come to terms with it and the fact that Tessa wishes to remain with me."

"You seem chilled, my lady," Layla said to me, her back so stiff with insult that it could double for deck plating. "I will fetch your shawl for you and return promptly."

She didn't so much as wait for my dismissal, nor acknowledge Andyrl like any good servant should. What she did was pin each of my stormtrooper escorts with a stare every bit as hard and stiff as her posture before sweeping out of the room.

I waited for the doors to close behind her before I slapped his shoulder roughly. "That wasn't the best thing you could have done, Andy," I snapped. "You realize she's doing more than finding a shawl for me. She's running off to Con or Uncle or stars knows who else she really reports to. It could be Martio for all I know."

"If she can somehow work the impossible and gain an audience with either of those men, I'll consider it payment for her rudeness."

And then I caught on to what he was doing. "You insulted her on purpose."

He squirmed a bit in his seat under my words. "I need to know what's going on out there. If they think you're alone with a madman, they'll send someone with authority to pull you away from me. And that someone will know more than we do about where we are headed."

Regardless of the presence of my two escorts, I let myself slouch in my seat, fishing another piece of fruit from my purse. Not to keep me from agreeing, but because I really was hungry. And judging by the way his eyes tracked that bit of fruit, I could tell he was, too. I shared it with him.

"So nice that you could use me as a pawn like everyone else," I quipped. He made a face, as if the fruit in his mouth had suddenly gone sour. I cut him off before he could reply. "No, don't worry about it. You're a politician. If I were in your shoes, I might have done the same."

He chewed a bit longer than was necessary before swallowing, regarding me the whole time. "That's very generous of you," he said carefully. "I take it these things happen all the time?"

"More than you know, my friend. Since Con brought me here, the only person not trying to use me in their own game is Cassio, and even then I'm not entirely sure he hasn't."

"Then leave."

I sighed again. "Andy, you know I can't—"

"I'm serious, Tess. Come with me to Alderaan. There's room in my entourage, as Layla so eloquently put it. Besides, you and Senator Organa were friends once. You could help by keeping her out of my hair while I speak with the Queen and Prince-consort."

My sigh became a laugh. "If you put me in a room with Leia right now, you might need all the power of this station to pull us apart again. And it wouldn't be due to a heartfelt reunion. I'm liable to slap the taste out of her mouth for what she's doing to Alderaan right now, not to mention my own situation. IF she'd left things as they were in that system, Con wouldn't have pulled me away from it."

He thought on that a long moment. "I don't think it's all her fault, honestly."

I felt myself freeze for a moment, and the troopers that hadn't so much as twitched a muscle at Andyrl's blatant and rather ballsy offer to escape right in front of them, reacted to that. There was the faintest sound of armor against armor as they shifted ever so slightly. And I knew for utter truth that if I were to say the word, they would burn him down. What he said had come dangerously close to treason.

"I think we should change the topic."

"Why? Tell me you haven't changed your mind about the nature of the Empire and its laws. The ban on aliens—"

"You know, just calling the other species 'aliens' is just as bigoted as the laws against them. It's worse, actually. It makes it sound like they are separate from us even when you speak for their rights."

His mouth closed with a click of teeth, another frown touching his mouth. "You're right. I'm sorry. But that does not change the fact that the laws are morally wrong."

I went to lift both hands in a gesture of enough, but thought better of it. No telling how my escorts would interpret that. "Subject change, please? Enough about other species and politics and running away. There's nothing to be done about any of that right now. So let's not make this into a troubling visit."

"Tessa, all I'm trying to say is that perhaps Senator Organa and Senator Mothma have a point. While I do not believe in outright rebellion, I do think that some things need to change. Rebellion is what led to the Clone Wars, if you remember. The galaxy does not need that again, which is why I'm hoping that Alderaan will capitulate to the terms I'm authorized to give. If we can convince Senator Organa to support the terms, perhaps we can start to work together again and make this Empire something worth dy—"

The deck beneath us shuttered in a now familiar way, indicating that we'd arrived at wherever we were supposed to be. A planet filled the viewports, one filled with continents covered in lush green life, with an atmosphere of swirling fluffy white clouds. Other ships appeared next, the Star Destroyers from both Fleets I'd seen earlier, along with the diplomatic cruiser that was Andyrl's transport.

The doors behind us opened before either of us could get to our feet, and in walked General Bast and Colonel Veers. I had a brief moment of amused shock at their presence, especially that of the Colonel. It was no secret that Con despised the man. The fact that he was in my presence now was going to anger my brother something fierce. But something in the set of their shoulders, in the near expressions on their faces, had the amusement fading and had me reaching for that white armored hand again. Only this time, in the presence of those of higher rank, that hand wasn't there to comfort me.

General Bast stepped over to me while Colonel Veers headed towards Andryl, a small smile touching his mouth. "Miss Motti, I believe I have time in my schedule to allow you to view the painting. Would you be so kind as to accompany me?"

"O-of course," I replied carefully, my hand trembling as it reached for his gloved one. "Is everything all right?"

"Perfectly all right," he replied, the smile growing but never touching his eyes. "Admiral Batch will join us shortly, in fact. Your Uncle has prepared an early dinner as an apology for missing your lunch appointment. Please, come with me."

I glanced over my shoulder, saw Andyrl in a somewhat animated yet hushed debate with the Colonel. Well, Andyrl was the animated one, I should say. Colonel Veers was as stolid as any officer I'd seen, offering one word remarks to my friend in response to the gestured frenzy.

"No," I found myself saying, pushing through the sudden headache that disagreeing with anyone seemed to provoke these days. "No, something's not right. Something's wrong."

His hand shifted from my wrist to my upper arm, gently pulling me towards the door. "Perhaps your uncle can soothe any concerns you have."

"No. I think you can. Why is the deck still trembling beneath us? What's happening? What planet are we in orbit around?" I threw a glance at my two escorts. "Answer any of those questions if you can."

"Do not trouble them unnecessarily," Bast put in before either could answer. "They are not under orders to answer questions."

There was a warning in that tone, something that ordered them to silence even without saying the words. I dug in my heels, both physically and mentally, and pulled back. "No. I want to know what is going on. The trembling is getting worse, General. Why is the station shaking? Answer me, and I'll go with you."

"Your uncle—"

"Isn't here right now. I don't want to talk to him. I want to talk to you. Tell me, please, what is going on."

Bast's hand tightened, his other hand catching my free wrist. "I am so sorry, Miss Motti. I have my orders. Come."

He was no longer gently pulling, and the officers that were supposed to keep me safe became a wall behind me, cutting off my view of Andyrl and most of the viewports. "NO! What's so kriffing important that you have to hurry? What—"

The vibrations in the deck grew frantic, a humming filling the air. And Bast no longer had a pleasant expression on his face. One hand left my wrist, sweeping up behind me and my skirts and hoisting me up into his arms. I had only a glimpse over his shoulder. It was enough.

Enough to provoke nightmares for the rest of my life. Andyrl was slumped on the sofa, unconscious. Blood made a tiny trickle from the corner of his mouth from where he'd been punched. And Colonel Veers was ordering a team of stormtroopers to round up Andy's staff for immediate transport off the station, shaking his hand slightly as if to work away the sting of the punch he'd delivered.

But that wasn't the worst part.

I saw a beam of light emit from the Death Star and strike the planet below, and suddenly everything in the galaxy changed.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I forgot to state at the start of the last chapter that this story follows events as portrayed in the novel "Death Star." Which includes the first official test of the Death Star's superweapon shortly before its use on Alderaan. Many thanks to **Malicean** for pointing out how my last chapter could have been confused with the destruction of Alderaan. Hopefully this next chapter makes things a bit more clear. :)

Thanks again for all the reviews, follows, private messages and favorites. Special shout out to **Malicean, Hoplite39**, and **Admiral Mitthrawnuruodo** for the wonderful reviews. Super special shout out to** Hoplite39** for the use of trooper RC-5342 and the order number system in ** Loyal soldier of the Empire - Journal of an Imperial Stormtrooper. ** It's an amazing story that I highly recommend!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

The planet's name had been Despayre. Had been. As in past tense. Because there wasn't a planet anymore. There was nothing but a debris could of shattered rock and the ghosts of so many lives lost.

It didn't matter to me that Despayre had been a prison planet—the worse prison planet in the galaxy. Only those that had committed the most monstrous of offenses were sentenced to die down there, where even the atmosphere could turn toxic in a heartbeat. Beasts of all manner of nightmares had roamed the forest, the vegetation itself poisonous by turns depending on the season of the year. Being sent there was only slightly worse than being sold into slavery and shipped to the spice mines of Kessel.

Only _slightly_ worse.

But there had been political prisoners down there, too. People like Leia and, I now had to admit, Andryl, that spoke out peacefully against our beloved Emperor, exercising their rights as sentients with free will. It didn't matter that their opinions and beliefs were misguided, that they sought to topple the very thing that gave them those rights and the comfortable lives they lead. They had been people that had thought they were doing the proper thing. People who didn't deserve that kind of death, but were forced to endure it anyway.

People who were nothing more than floating particles, as dead as the dreams they had hoped to make reality.

I strode down the hallways with a furious purpose, my escort keeping pace with sharp strikes of their boots. It was almost as if they shared my anger, my outrage. So much so that they had become a living extension of myself, a shadow of the white-hot rage boiling in my blood. I no longer cared that they were there, or what they were about to witness. I did not care that Layla was likewise furious in my quarters, angrily packing her things. I'd dismissed her from my service for her part in this entire travesty of events, for calling those officers to us. For having Andyrl kicked off the station before he was even conscious.

It's amazing what a good dose of pure undiluted anger could do to a person, regardless of the fact that this sudden fury may very well be another withdraw symptom of the drug. Another manic flipping of my emotion switch as my brain tried in vain to readjust to its natural patterns. What mattered in that moment was that the emotion gave me focus, a stronger cleanser to the soul than anything I'd ever known, washing away doubt on a raw tide of resentment.

For so long I'd hidden from my place in the galaxy, buried my head in the proverbial sands of ignominy thinking that someone else would handle things, would clean up the messes of the galaxy at large. Thinking to myself that one person wasn't important enough to affect a galaxy of billions and trillions of lives. I had been wrong about that. Uncle was but one man, and I knew down in the marrow of my bones that he'd _willingly_ had that entire planet blown to bits.

But kriff it, I was a Motti. My blood was just as pure and noble as his. And if I wasn't going to step up to my birthright and fix what I saw was wrong, then who would?

My only wish was that Andryl was here to see this. But he was gone now, his ship and his entourage having hit lightspeed three hours ago. I doubted that Andryl was even conscious when it happened, and for once I was glad that Colonel Veers had laid him out. For once I was glad that my best friend had lost his mind and struck the Colonel first. Provoked or unprovoked, it mattered little now. Andy was spared the knowledge that I now had.

Stars, I could still see it behind my eyes. The first volley from the Death Star striking the planet, causing the whole thing to glow green for a heartbeat. For a moment, a single solitary moment, nothing happened. So much so that General Bast faltered in his rush to take me wherever it was he was told to take me. We both stared out a tiny viewport, watching. Waiting. Praying.

Across the horizon of the planet, a thin grayish shadow began to emerge, slithering like a poisoned slimy mist across the sky. "Goddess preserve," Bast had muttered, lowering me back to my feet, his eyes as riveted to that viewport as my own.

The mist built upon itself, becoming like dead waxy skin that devoured the clouds. Here and there red blotches appeared, bright hot flashes like weeping sores in that festering hide. Volcanic eruptions, I would learn later. The Death Star's main weapon had only been charged to a small percent, but that was enough to unbalance the core of the planet, causing earthquakes and tsunamis and shifting plate tectonics violent enough to sterilize the entire surface of the planet. The clouds were grey to our eyes, but only from above. Below, the very air burned like liquid flame, spewing up the fumes in a grey shroud of death.

All life died within minutes. Nothing could have survived in the toxic soup the environment had become.

But it wasn't over. And there was no use shielding me from the events to come, now that I had seen the true purpose of this so-called "battle station for the Emperor's Peace."

I was standing on a death machine. A tomb maker. An instrument of utter sorrow rather than a station of order and stability.

Bast stood with me, with my escorts, for the hour it took to charge the station for another blast. The first shot had only been at one third of the power that those generators could create, the very generators near which Martio and I had shared that wonderful lunch, watching the lights flicker on like a thousand stars. I had thought it romantic and beautiful, a bit of the universe that was forever ours alone. Now… now I wanted to tear out my eyes to make this horror stop.

The second shot cracked the grey skin of the planet, peeling it away to show the raw red lava, the life blood of the planet, pouring from kilometer wide cracks in its crust. Turning the planet red all over. Another hour would pass as the planet burned before our eyes. Before the batteries charged again, and the final shot was fired.

And Despayre was no more.

And now I burned instead. Raged. And I didn't give a kriff who saw it.

"I will stop you," Moradmin Bast said simply, easily. Without a hint that my hurried pace had winded him in the slightest. Apparently recovering all that precious Imperial dignity now that the shock and horror had faded. "You may go where you wish, but only to a point."

I flicked a glance his way, not bothering to slow my step. "You may try."

"I will succeed, if only for your protection."

"Really? My protection? Is that what you call what you did to me when you carried me out of that room?"

"Yes."

That had me pulling to a sudden halt. Thankfully one of the troopers serving as my escort had guarded me before, because he/she raised a hand and signaled the other to stop before he ran right into me. I ignored it, balling my hands into fists and planting them on my hips. Glaring at the General before me.

"You consider lying to me a protection?"

"I consider following my orders to shield you from unpleasantness as a protective action, yes."

"If my brother or uncle wanted to keep me from the truth of this place, they shouldn't have turned it into my personal prison."

I slapped my palm forward, intending to call for the next diplomatic lift. His gloved hand caught mine before I could get close to it.

"Your uncle and brother love you, Miss Motti," he said evenly. "And because I would not see that relationship damaged in a display of temper, I will not allow you to call upon them now."

"You have no say over anything I do, General. Now stand aside."

"I'm afraid I cannot do that. To be absolutely clear, my lady, I have my orders."

"Orders?" I lifted both eyebrows at that, a perfect imitation of Uncle's bored indifference. "Let us discuss orders, shall we? Trooper," I said, turning to the one on my right. "What is your designation?"

"RC-5342, Miss Motti."

"And what order are you operating under, RC-5342?"

"Order 0000A(JM), Miss Motti."

"Correct me if I am wrong, but that means you are to protect me from all harm, even harm I may bring to myself."

"Yes, Miss Motti."

I pinned General Bast with a hard cold stare. "If I were to tell you that this man before me was going to cause me great harm if he continued to remain in my presence, what would be your response?"

There was more than sadistic satisfaction in my smile as I watched Moradmin Bast's eyes widen fractionally, a tiny drop of sweat escaping the rim of his cap. RC-5342 and his/her companion did something to their E-11's that made a familiar charging sound, as if preparing to fire.

"Understand something, General," I seethed. "I have seen the death of tens of thousands today. You witnessed it with me. Whether or not my uncle and brother wished me to witness it is now irrelevant. I've seen it. I know what this floating atrocity to the galaxy can do. The only reason I've tolerated your presence thus far today is that you were just as horror-struck as I at how Despayre was destroyed.

"I gather from your expression that you are not the one that issued Order 0000A(JM), and from that I can reasonably estimate that you know exactly what these two loyal soilders of the Empire will do to you if I so ask them," I continued, hands folded pleasantly at my waist. "So I will state this again: I am going to see my uncle and brother. If you want to mitigate the damage to our relationship as you so eloquently put it, you can come with me. Otherwise, I'll let these troopers do what they do best to keep you from me. Am _I _absolutely clear, General?"

To his credit, he regained some of his composure. Not all of it, but some. Enough to stand at full attention and pin me with a contemplative expression of all things. For some reason, it reminded me of the way Grand Admiral Thrawn stared at me in that hidden art gallery.

"I will accompany you, Miss Motti," he said at last. "You will not find me barring the way. I can see at last what the Grand Admiral sees in you."

I scoffed. "I doubt that. My relationship with Admiral Batch is none of your concern."

Surprisingly a tiny smile flirted with the edge of his lips as he pushed the call button himself, moving to stand beside me again. "As you say, Miss Motti."

* * *

The rage was still there by the time the lift reached the principle office levels, but a tiny parasite of doubting logic had taken residence beside it, and was cheerfully eating away at my resolve. What would I say to my uncle when I faced him? What possible way could screaming at him affect the outcome of Despayre's fate? Nothing, I hated to admit. There was nothing I could do for the planet now. It was gone, and all its inhabitants, whether guilty or innocent of their crimes, long dead.

But I could find answers. I could at least demand to know why an entire planet had to die. And I could denounce him and this station he was so bloody proud of and this entire operation to his face. And then… then I would find a way to escape this place. Somehow, someway, I would leave. Not to join the rebellion on Alderaan, nor to go about spreading the truth of what happened to Despayre. I wasn't nearly that foolish or idealistic. I loved the Empire, the ideals that it stood for, in theory. And I had been honest when I'd told Andryl that rebelling was idiotic to say the least.

But that didn't mean I had to stand there and watch planet after planet burn. If I couldn't change anything, I could at least remove myself from it. And that was that.

I should have realized it was a bad time to interrupt Uncle when I noticed something was slightly different in the stormtroopers guarding the double doors to his office. They wore the usual white armor, but there was a patch on the left shoulder that I'd never seen before. A black plate bearing the Imperial symbol in red. Moradmin flinched, the only outward expression that he knew what was going on.

I ignored it, which was stupid. And I stormed into that office, which was also stupid.

Uncle stood gazing at a viewscreen, technical/tactical displays overlaying the shards that had once been an entire planet. And beside him… stars, the rumors and stories never did him justice. A behemoth of a man shrouded in black armor, a cloak so dark that it could blend with the vastness of space hung around his shoulders. And the breathing… the electronic pull and push of air through that nightmarish mask. It was horrifying. Soul-shattering. Fear-inspiring.

And… awe inspiring. Like I was staring at the physical embodiment of the rage that burned in my veins.

That armored head whipped around, pinning me with an eyeless gaze long before Uncle seemed to notice my presence. I stared into all that unrelieved black, into twin pools of unending hatred, and saw myself reflected back. Saw the tiny smile that touched my lips at that thought, that sudden feeling of kinship through unbridled fury. So much so that I wanted to throw my head back and howl. Not in fear, or terror, or even sorrow that I would feel such a connection with a monster, but just to let some of that bottled anger escape.

Looking at myself through the lenses of his helm was like feeding my rage through a magnifier. Stars, but I wanted to kill, to break things, to use this fuel inside of me. All the things I'd had to put up with, the drugs and the pseudo-kidnapping and the pretending to be perfect and in love with a man I didn't love, and to deny the man I thought I was falling in love with… all of it boiled over from one look into those depthless eyes.

"Little Tessa," Uncle said, surprise flavoring his tone. Followed quickly by annoyance when he saw General Bast standing next to me, as if he should have stopped me from coming here. "This is an unexpected pleasure."

His tone suggested that it was anything but. Oh, good. We were on a level emotional playing field.

"Uncle," I answered, my tone matching his. My eyes still locked onto none other than Lord Vader. "If you are expecting an apology from me for this interruption, it is going to be a long wait."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him smile. There was no warmth to it, other than the promise of showing me just how wrong I was in that last statement.

"You must forgive my niece, Lord Vader," he said, crossing the room to me. "I'm afraid I have let my affection for her produce unladylike characteristics in her. The price of favoritism for us both, it seems."

I turned away from the Lord Vader, pulling my eyes from his the hardest thing I had done to date. It was almost as if he was… feeding… from my emotional overload. Insane to think, but there it was. Emotions were just emotions, not powers unto themselves. Only the Emperor, may he live forever, had that sort of power. Or so the rumors said.

Still, turning from him felt like pulling from Moradmin's grasp. There was effort involved, and a slight headache afterward, as if he had literally held onto my mind.

Stupid. Foolish little daydream. Something more to blame on these drugs I was being fed against my will.

"Indeed it is," I said right back, daring to glance over my shoulder and away from Uncle without his permission. "Thank you for the escort, General Bast. Perhaps you and my guards should wait outside while Uncle and I speak."

RC-5342 and his/her companion turned on their heels with a sharp salute and left. Quickly. Moradmin was a touch slower, again that confusing and utterly frustrating look on his face that I couldn't read. Most people would have been shaking in their boots to be in the presence of Uncle AND Lord Vader. In fact, I was fairly certain that when my rage fled, I was going to be on the floor sobbing even before Uncle laid a hand to me.

But for now, there was this rage… and this strange feeling that Lord Vader approved of it.

"How dare you," I seethed the moment the three of us were alone.

"How dare I?" Uncle answered, amused anger in his tone. "I believe you have forgotten just who you are addressing_, little_ Tessa."

A verbal slap. A warning. A reminder that I tread on unstable ground with him.

"I don't give a kriff about your rank right now, _Uncle_. I'm addressing you as my blood, not as a Grand Moff. Not as a commander of this technological terror you've created."

"Then indeed continue. And I will deal with you thusly."

"You blew up a planet!"

"Yes."

Just a simple answer, that one word. And the only emotion in his eyes was pride. PRIDE! Pleased that he'd done just as I'd said.

"Why?"

"That is none of your concern."

"Oh, don't give me that. You know bloody well that it is! It's the concern of every planet in every corner of the galaxy, the concern of every being that draws breath!"

"And I see you have answered your own question."

I stared at him. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. Literally shrugged and walked over to the hidden bar, pressing a few buttons and retrieving two glasses of dark red wine. "This 'technological terror' as you so put it is very much the concern of every planet in the galaxy. Once word of our success here at Despayre reaches other worlds, no planet will dare oppose the Emperor."

He held out a glass to me. "Do you not see that I am making a better galaxy for you, little Tessa, at the Emperor's behest, of course," he added with a flick of his eyes towards Lord Vader, almost as if an afterthought. "Soon we will have lasting peace and security."

"Peace and… do you hear yourself?" I asked incredulously, staring first at the glass and then at him. "You say you are creating a galaxy of lasting peace and security for people like me, but Uncle, what will there be for people like me if you destroy it all first? Can't you see that the spirit of the people will rebel against this?"

"Not after this effective demonstration."

I slumped down into one of the chairs opposite his desk, rubbing a hand over my eyes. If rage couldn't reach him, maybe logic could? Doubtful, but I had to try. For every  
life that now hung in the balance, I had to try something.

"Uncle, you don't understand. I've lived with real people. People who aren't smothered in politics or trying to constantly rise above their station on the backs of others. You can't scare people into submission forever. And no battle station, no matter how powerful, is stronger than the infinite…"

I groped for the right word. It was more than spirit, more than the desire for freedom. It was… It was…

"Your niece is correct," Lord Vader said. "The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force."

I wasn't certain what he meant by that, but I was going to take any backup I could in this confrontation. Especially at the way Uncle's face took on a sour expression for the briefest of moments, as if he had not expected to find the Emperor's most trusted advisor taking sides against him. If that was even what this was. But Uncle was a consummate politician if anything else, and he recovered swiftly. The smile on his lips was only partly faked, the hand that set down my intended glass and instead reached out to caress my cheek, almost tender in its restraint.

"You understand why I treasure her so, Lord Vader, and her brother. He had said almost the same thing to me before the decision was made. Anyone else would be dead at my feet for speaking to me thusly. What was the ancient saying… out of the mouth of babes comes wisdom?"

A thrill of fear and exultation ran through me at that touch. He was going to come after me for this. Oh, I was going to suffer for it. But not as harsh as it could have been. Not with the favor of Lord Vader resting on my shoulders at the moment. And not with Con's own disapproval of Despayre's destruction on record!

"The Emperor has long favored the Tarkin and Motti families for that reason," Lord Vader rumbled in response.

"Yes, he has," Uncle murmured, as if to himself, two fingertips slipping beneath my chin to tilt my head back. "Breeding will tell in the end. Though education and proper training serve to polish a jewel to its brightest potential. Rest assured, Lord Vader, that I'll see that this gem is flawless in the end."

I glared at Uncle, filled that gaze with all the hatred I felt. But I kept my mouth shut. And waited. And watched Uncle smile again as he read all of that in me.

"Go now, my Tessa," he said, stepping back from me. "You have made your point, spoken your peace. Leave me to deliberate on your words with Lord Vader. I will summon you again when you are needed."

I flicked a glance at the glass on his desk, frowning. "You aren't going to make me drink it?"

"Make you? Why ever would I force you to drink anything?"

I stared back up into his eyes, really stared as if I could dig past the polish and layers of mental control to heart of him. And I knew, right then and there, that it wasn't him. He wasn't the one drugging me. Of all the people on this station, I had been so certain it was him.

"Nothing," I growled, rising to my feet. "You have my sincerest apologies for that last part, Uncle. I have misjudged you. But only for that last part."

"Hold," he snapped, and I paused in mid-curtsey to Lord Vader. "That is the first time you have ever apologized to me and meant it since you boarded this station, child. Come here, right now."

I didn't get the chance to comply. His hand was around my arm, pulling me none to gently back to the seat I'd just vacated. "Uncle, what is—"

"Enough," he said, and it wasn't an order. At least not the order type that had come from a Grand Moff. This was pure Uncle in his voice. "Now, tell me what you meant by that last comment. Why would I force you to drink anything?"

"It's it obvious?" I snapped back. "Someone is drugging me."

I thought I had seen rage in my own eyes reflected back from Vader's mask. I had been wrong. I could not match my uncle, not if I lived to be a million years old.

"You will explain everything right now."

"I don't have to—"

A hand landed on my shoulder, one full of utter menace and hatred, and determination. One that didn't give a flip about me personally one way or the other, but one that seemed to enjoy the rage in me. One that was continuing to show his favor if only for the moment. Lord Vader was behind me, ensuring I wasn't going anywhere until I answered every one of Uncle's questions. And as I began to speak, Moradmin entered, summoned by some unseen comm. signal. He stood at my other shoulder, Uncle filling the space before me.

And it all came out. Every single word and fear and moment. By the time I was finished, I wasn't the only one filled with rage in that room.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Thank you for all who have read, reviewed, favorited and followed this story. Apologies for not updating as swiftly as usual. The flu took me down for quite a bit, but I am better now! I hope. :P

The reference to Leia and Tessa liberally dumping pink sparkly paint on a Moff was all inspired by the lovely **Malicean**, and comes from chapter five of **Vader's Own**. The incident regarding the rumors of Veers and an "interest" in young girls also comes from a twisted rumor based on chapter one and two of the same story. Go read it. It is beyond worth the read. :)

LC-9087 and RC-5342, and so much more come from **Loyal soldier of the Empire - Journal of an Imperial Stormtrooper** by the wonderful **Hoplite39**. Again, this story is beyond worth the read. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

The only thing I hated more than the drug rewiring my brain was the injections of the counteragent that was undoing the rewiring. First off, they hurt. In this day and age where hypoinjectors could deliver medicines with a soft hiss of air, injectors shouldn't have to hurt. But this one did, because it was delivered right at the base of my brainstem. Twice daily for three days now. And it was done by one seriously nervous doctor, too, which probably didn't help the feeling any.

Seriously nervous because it had come down from on high that I was to make a complete recovery. Period. End of list. From Uncle to my brother to even Grand Admiral Batch, I was on the must-live-or-else order form. The only thing that could have made this worse was if Lord Vader, himself, put the hypoinjector to my flesh. On a complete side note, I still didn't know what to think of Lord Vader, or what I'd said or done before him. It was probably best to blame all my actions on the drugs and just hope to Imperial Center and back that I never ran into him again.

Uncle or Con or Martio oversaw each and every injection. That is, when my brother deigned to speak with me. Which was now a rare occasion, seeing as he was absolutely furious and hurt that a) I hadn't come to him about this drug thing in the first place and b) because I'd honestly thought he was behind it, at least in part.

Well, what did he expect when I'd seen how he'd treated that Bria Theran woman? That he'd show up with flowers and a song on his lips when he wanted me to do something for him? He was never an overly cruel boy growing up, but honestly… the day I saw Conan Antonio Motti asking anyone to do anything with a smile, a song, and something nice as a gift was the day I'd accuse_ him_ of being on drugs.

I lifted my head from Martio's shoulder, fighting not to rub the back of my neck or unclench my jaw. The first option was a no-no, as touching the injection site was prohibited for a full twenty minutes after. Something about the needle going into the vertebrae and spinal cord or some such nonsense. I wasn't a doctor, so it was all pretty much medical-babble way over my comprehension. I wasn't allowed to do much of anything, actually, until that time had passed. Dangers of infections or bumping the area or something like that.

The second was a pride thing. I would not sob all over Martio's nice white uniform. No matter how much pain I was in. And yes, I was in a lot of it. Which was why Martio was here today, in Con's apartments.

"Better?" he asked, the pad of his thumb tenderly brushing away the single tear I'd let escape.

"Yes," I muttered, blushing faintly. And feeling like an idiot for blushing at the man. For goodness sake, I wasn't the type of girl that did those things. Was I? "I have to fight not to touch it."

"I have better things for your hands to do."

I lifted both eyebrows. "You know, that sounded vaguely like something no self-respecting girl would answer."

The innocent look he turned my way belied the smoldering dark humor in his eyes. "I like you better this way, my Tessa."

"As an invalid dependant on you for the next twenty minutes?"

"As the fiery woman that caught my eye in your Uncle's office."

"So the submissive Tessa, the one that was all drugged up wasn't to your liking?"

"Hardly," He replied, taking my hands in his and bringing them to his lips. "I told you before that I prefer someone with whom I can converse openly. Who isn't afraid to argue back with me or crawl through ray shafts on a whim."

Okay, blushed at that one, too. What _had_ I been thinking that day? To drag a Grand Admiral through those shafts like he was a commoner… Oh, I knew what I had been thinking. I'd been trying to get him to scoff at the idea, to think me an immature child unworthy of his marriage no matter how large my dowry. Only I was the one that was surprised that day. And pretty much every day since.

His laughter stifled any retort I could have made, the soft warmth of his lips pressed to my forehead making me flush again… though for different reasons entirely.

"You're the only man in the Empire that feels that way. Most want pretty dollies to dangle on their arms."

"I am not most men."

"So I'm gathering."

I leaned back, watching as he signaled for a serving droid to come near. Trying to figure out how to phrase my next sentence without offending him. He could talk all he liked about how he wanted a strong woman in his life. But until he signed that marriage contract, this whole thing could blow up in my face. And then Uncle would blow up in my face. And after what he'd done to Despayre, I sincerely and utterly wanted to stay on his good side for the rest of my life. There was literally no place in the Galaxy I could hide from his wrath now.

Which meant I was marrying Martio Batch whether or not I wanted to. It was either that, or risk him blowing up planet after planet and murdering millions of people to find me.

No, I wouldn't put it past him to do that. There was no such thing as an abuse of power when you, yourself, made up the rules governing said power. And Uncle always made the rules.

The serving droid whipped the top from a warming dish, revealing some of my favorite foods along with several I did not recognize. A second droid produced a holocube and went about setting it up. Apparently when he said he had things for my hands to do, he hadn't meant putting my fingers on him. Unless, of course, part of my fun involved tasting those foods and then seeing just how many colorful fingerprints I could put on that white uniform…

Okay, okay. I was attracted to the man. I now had solid proof that it wasn't the drugs making me want him. But was physical attraction enough to base an entire marriage upon? Aside from money and wealth and all of that other stuff that usually accompanied a marriage of state, I meant. I didn't know. All I knew was that if I couldn't be with Cassio, was Martio really that bad an option?

"You're thinking too hard."

I blinked. "I'm sorry?"

He smiled faintly, preparing two plates for us from the arranged fingerfoods. "You have a tiny crease between your eyebrows, Tessa. That only happens when you are in deep thought."

"Just deciding something."

"Such as?"

"How to ask you something without offending you."

He chuckled. "You have no idea how much I missed this blunt honesty of yours."

"I would have thought blunt honesty was the hallmark of the men under your command."

"No, you are confusing that with concise civility."

"Concise civility," I echoed. "So you're saying that the courtly games of the great families extend to life in the Fleet?"

"Not precisely," he replied, holding out a bit of fruit to me. "Honesty is required rather than intrigues. But politics do play heavily into earning promotions or the best assignments. It takes more than just a good name and breeding to advance in the Imperial Navy."

I leaned forward, taking a nibble from the offering in his fingers, feeling no small amount of pride at the oh so subtle way his breath caught at that. Almost imperceptibly so. The polite thing to have done was to take the fruit in my own fingers. But I'd seen Olonrae do this on Alderaan to entice men to want her. I wasn't disappointed in the results. A hussy move or not, it granted me Martio's complete and utter attention.

"I see," I murmured after swallowing, picking up a random item from the plate and offering it to him in the same manner. "And this 'concise civility' is a scaled down version of court behavior?"

He leaned forward, his eyes locked on mine, and took a small nibble from the fruit in my fingers. And this time it was my breath that caught, my mind that was utterly aware for the first time of the power that sat next to me in this room. A Grand Admiral, eating from my fingers… A man that could command entire quadrants of the Galaxy to dance if he so desired it, and he was staring at me with those over-intelligent, calculating eyes. Weighing and measuring every little detail while still managing to shine with desire.

My mouth suddenly went dry, and the tight bodice of my dress felt a little too tight for proper breath.

"It is politics without the flowery words," He said simply after wiping his mouth with a napkin. "In the fleet, there is oftentimes very little opportunity to prepare your words carefully in advance. Concise civility allows one to state their mind, their intentions and their desires least amount of words without causing offense."

"Sounds incredibly complicated."

"And it sounds like you are trying to change the topic. What is it that you wanted to ask me?"

I paused in reaching for my glass. "Okay," I said, turning to face him. "This may not be the concise civility that you were talking about, but you told me once that the only way things would work between us was if I was completely honest with you. And since you're probably already aware that I'm a political hot mess, I'm just going to say it. I think part of the reason I was drugged was an attack against you."

"Yes."

I blinked, thrown by that answer and answered in return with my usual charming courtly wit. "Ummm… what?"

"Yes, I have considered that option as well," he chuckled faintly. "While I do not believe this was done to you as a move against me directly, I do believe someone wanted to disrupt the possibility of a union between us. And this someone had to know us both very well in order to conduct this type of sabotage."

"They… did?"

He shrugged, picking up his wine glass and offering mine to me as well. "Consider the evidence. One would have to know that you are a fiery woman by nature, one that will rail against the common good seemingly on a whim. Someone that knew you were completely unpredictable, and someone that knew I would find those characteristics in you undeniably attractive. What better way to ruin a lucrative alliance between myself and your family than to make it seem that you were coached to act radically, but underneath you were as empty as all the others."

"So what you're saying is that if this poisoner got his or her way and turned me into a walking wet blanket, you would have turned me away."

"If I had consented to the marriage already, I would not have that option," he continued easily. "However, your Uncle would have made a huge enemy in supposedly lying to me."

I shivered, the fire of desire in me snuffed out by the simple… ruthlessness in those words. It was the only way to describe it. They'd rolled off his lips with smooth and simple deliberation, but the… the… promise in them chilled me to the bone. He would have honored his marriage to me, of that I had no doubt. But he would have made Uncle pay for the duplicity for the rest of his life. Pay in extremely steep ways that would have involved failed military campaign after failed military campaign, until the Emperor stripped him and House Tarkin of everything.

For people like Uncle, it was a fate far worse than death.

My mouth went dry in a way that had nothing to do with pleasure, and I swallowed a large gulp of wine to hide it.

"I did not say this to frighten you, Tessa," he continued, staring at me intently over the rim of his glass. "I am returning honesty with honesty. I am a ruthless man, possessed of drives and ambitions most would see as over the top. But I am also just a man, with a man's desire for a wife and family. I cannot promise to be at your side every moment, or to be able to take your wishes into consideration when I make decisions for us. However, I will promise to do everything in my power to protect you and our children, should we have any. You will lack for nothing."

I almost dropped my wine, nearly coughing a mouthful all over the table. By the Emperor, that sounded very much like a proposal! As if he was moments away from walking into Uncle's office and signing that paperwork.

"Martio," I began, forgetting how to breathe all of a sudden. "I—"

I never got to finish that thought. The doors to the main parlor slid open, and I felt a bubble of hope rise in my chest. Saved by the proverbial interruption! Whomever it was that had dared interrupt our lunch was going to earn a huge kiss from me… Until I noticed the wary glint that slid into Martio's eyes, and that bubble of hope sank quickly.

It felt like it took forever for me to turn my head, to stare at the men piling through the doorway. Colonel Veers was there, along with Major Fehr of all bloody men. And the look on their faces was less than pleasant. So much so that Martio set down his wine, rising to his feet and taking that one stride that put him between them and me.

"Admiral," Colonel Veers began, saluting sharply. His gaze flicked to me for just a moment. "I am afraid that I come with ill tidings for Miss Motti. It was my hope that her brother would be present at this time."

Another step forward, ensuring I was well shielded from either men. Whether he did it because he shared Con's dislike of the Colonel, or he harbored my same anger at Fehr (the _former _adjutant to my brother, I should say. I'd heard that Uncle and brother both had the man beaten for his actions against me, and demoted to some lesser person's adjutant. Perhaps he was given to Veers? It would make sense, given Con's dislike of the man…), I didn't know. All I knew was that I was stalling. Afraid of what the Colonel was going to say. Hadn't I gone through enough already?!

"Admiral Motti is currently overseeing several duties for Grand Moff Tarkin," Martio continued, his voice taking on a dangerously soft quality that had me shivering. "Admiral Motti has placed her under my care for the time being. Whatever needs to be said to Miss Motti can be said in my presence."

The Colonel nodded, turning flat dispassionate yet professional eyes my way. "Miss Motti, it is my sad duty to inform you that Senator Andyrl Kuron's ship was intercepted on its way to Alderaan and was destroyed. You have my extreme condolences…"

* * *

I'm fairly certain that the good Colonel continued to say other words after those two damning sentences, but I wasn't listening anymore. It's hard to listen when screaming, when throwing things. When having a full on temper tantrum brought on by the worst grief I had ever known. I'd called him a liar, a bastard, and all sorts of other things. That was until he'd turned on his heel and sharply reprimanded Major Fehr for something he'd said. Probably because I'd started my 'throwing things fit' by aiming at Fehr's head.

Don't ask me what it was, but I remembered the look in Fehr's eyes as a large part of my world fell apart. Joy. Unrestrained dark joy in my pain, in my loss.

Apparently that was the line for Colonel Veers. That someone could take so much personal happiness in the utter sorrow of another was something he could not abide. Maybe Con had been wrong about him and Leia. Maybe he wasn't a man that had affection for young girls. No one that shoved someone like Fehr so firmly out of the room, purposefully clipping the man's shoulder rather hard in the doorframe, could have those debased desires.

And the look Veers sent my way as he left, the look of compassion and apology…

Kriff, I was going to owe the man an apology, wasn't I? Of course, that required me to reclaim my right mind and shake off the pall of sorrow-induced madness.

The heavy rhythm of stromtrooper boots on polished durasteel was a measured counterpoint to the dull ache behind my eyes as I wandered the mostly empty halls. Andy was dead, murdered by the same people that he had tried to protect. I had seen the evidence that Colonel Veers had presented with my own eyes (which was what had led to my tantrum, truth be told). One of Andy's attendants had managed to survive, to slip into a life pod with video of the massacre and a jammer so that the pod appeared empty of life signs. Those treacherous bastards had let it go, never knowing that they were spelling out their own doom.

Stars, I could still see it all behind my eyes! The uniforms of the Alderaan Security Force as the boarding party entered the ship, the smiling face of the liaison to Prince Consort Bail Organa with his adoring wife there on his arm. Andy stepping forward to greet this advanced diplomatic party, a slightly confused look in his too-kind eyes. And the woman… that horrible, horrible woman smiling so nicely on the liaison's arm… pulling a blaster from the folds of her gown and shouting something like "Long live the Rebellion" or "Death to the Emperor" or something like that.

I couldn't rightly tell you what she said. I'd been too busy staring in horror as that blaster came up level with Andy's heart.

The first shot killed him instantly.

The second shot to the chest was just overkill.

But the shot to the head… the one that rendered Andy's face into so much shattered flesh and bone?

All I could see was white after that, the glistening pristine white of Martio's uniform as he pushed my head into his shoulder. Muffling my screams, my sobs.

When my hysterics were spent to mere cries, Martio made me promise to stay in my quarters until he or my brother returned. I should have known that Colonel Veers and Major Fehr had not been sent to only tell me this bad news. No matter my ties to the Grand Moff and High Admiral, I was still simply a civilian. Sending a Colonel, even the adjutant of my brother, was overkill for this kind of information. No, they'd been sent to retrieve the Grand Admiral. By orders of the Emperor, himself, Uncle was to formulate a response to this latest act of rebellion aggression and Martio would be needed for that.

I stopped in my random wandering of the hallways, rubbing my eyes, my stormtrooper escort falling into place on either side of me. I couldn't keep that promise to Martio, not after calling Andy's wife the moment he'd left. Setalle and I had never been close, but Andy had loved her beyond words. Loved her and their two children. One look at her blood-shot eyes on that screen had me sobbing anew. And I was never more thankful of the charity of our Emperor than when she informed me that a special session of the Senate had been called to handle this atrocity. She was going to speak before the Senate at the Emperor's request, and the demands for retribution against Alderaan for this betrayal would come from her lips with fire and zeal.

I… I couldn't fault her for it, honestly. As suddenly the planet that had been my home for so long, that had sheltered me when I tried to run from all I was, had become this foreign inhospitable place in the blink of an eye.

All I had known, all I had believed in, was now a lie. And that hurt just as badly as Andy's death.

One of my guards (I hadn't bothered to learn their operating numbers in the wake of my grief) shifted his/her position and pressed a button on the wall. Apparently I'd chosen to wallow in my misery near a turbolift shaft. Idly, I'd wondered if he/she'd just override the doors and let me take a flying leap into the shaft. Just anything to make this sickening list of betrayals stop.

"Where are we going?" I sniffed, swiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

"General quarters have been sounded, Miss Motti," came the synthesized ever-the-same male voice out of that filter. "Many sections of the station have been declared off-limits to non-military personnel. We should return to yours immediately until the alert is over."

"Do-does this have anything to do with Andy's death?"

"Unknown at this point, Miss Motti."

I wanted to argue the point. The thought of going back to those same walls, waiting in silence and ignorance for any kind of information or comfort, was enough to make me break down in sobs again. But if an order was given, they'd have to obey it. And that meant I was along for the ride.

"Fine," I muttered. "When we get back, I have a request. I want to see LC-9087 and RC-5342."

They didn't ask why, for which I was thankful. I had no idea why I wanted to see those two troopers, other than I felt absolutely safe when they were around. I had a connection of a sort to them even if it wasn't returned. And right now I needed some kind of comfort, even if it came from a pair of highly confused and less than compassionate white armored walls.

The lift doors parted, and a hand latched around my arm, pulling me backwards before I walked blindly into the lift. It was occupied by a woman and a pair of stormtroopers. Who were just as surprised to see me as I was to see them.

"Jentessa?" Leia Organa gasped softly.

I all but yanked my arm out of my escort's grasp. "You!" I hissed, storming right into the lift. "You dare to be here after what you've done?"

"I dare?" she asked right back, confusion replacing the shock. "They have captured you, too?"

"Captured?" Did she really just say that?

I glanced down, noting that her hands were bound and the two troopers escorting her weren't doing it to be kind. And still I couldn't bring myself to care. Nothing like an emotional shock to pull you out of an emotional numbness. First Despayre and now Andy… "Well, at least they moved quickly to put an end to your treachery."

Her chin snapped up, enough regal ice in her eyes to give Martio a run for his money. "I see."

"Do you?" I seethed, righteous hot rage to match her dispassionate frost. "You 'see' the murder you've done? Tell me, did your father orchestrate the whole thing, or was this your twisted idea alone? It'll help me sleep better at night to know they have Andy's killer in custody already. It'll save me the trip down to Alderaan to personally watch the arrest of your entire poisonous family. How could you, Leia? How could you destroy our chance at peace?"

Her mouth fell open, and I watched as the two troopers escorting her pull her back a step. But made no move to silence her. Just as my two escorts filed into the lift with me, and likewise made no effort to quiet me down. Which should have registered as odd, truth be told. But I wasn't really caring about that at the moment, not when I had the chance to hear just who had murdered my friend.

"Andy?" she echoed. "Senator Andryl Kuron is dead?"

"Yes!" I screamed, causing one of her guards to pull her backwards again until her back was to his chest. "By people in your uniforms! By your father's very own attaché! I saw the video, Leia! I heard the words! Andy is dead, all for your precious little rebellion!"

I took the advantage to step closer yet again. Which prompted my two escorts to raise their rifles slightly, which in turn prompted her two escorts to do the same. Stars, were the two of us under different sets of orders? Would loyal soldiers of the Empire open fire on each other because they thought the other may injure their charge?

"I had nothing to do with it," she snapped back, bringing me back to the moment. "Andy was my friend, too, Tessa. Listen to me, the rebellion isn't the one responsible for this murder. I can promise you that. Were I you, I would look to the proof right in front of your eyes."

And then she pointedly glanced around her at the four stormtroopers crowed into the lift with us.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She'd just… had she just admitted to being part of the rebellion? Was she really that obsessed with this supposed need for a freedom we already enjoyed under Emperor Palpatine? Kriff, what had happened to that girl I'd known back in school? The one that had enjoyed making Domina Tagge eat her own words, who had slipped into my dorm room to share secrets in the middle of the night?

What in the Empire had happened to the girl that had laughed as we'd set up Moff What's-his-name for the greatest prank our school had ever known? I was willing to lay down good money on the odds that that Moff was still trying to get all that pink glittery paint out of his hair and skin. I saw none of that in this woman standing before me.

No, I take that back. I saw the same rebellious independent streak I'd seen back then. Only it was fire-hardened and focused, sharp as blade and aimed at the heart of everything I had left. And that, more than anything else, pissed me off.

"Don't you dare," I snarled, fingers curling into talons as if to rip the lies from her lips, causing her two escorts to shift again, and mine to do the same. "Don't you dare disparage these officers for doing their duty. Not when it was your own people that committed this murder, that opened fire on an unarmed innocent man."

"And stormtroopers do not?"

"Of course they don't," I snapped back, feeling at least like I had the moral ground on this one. "And before you try to twist those words, I _know_ what it means to go through their conditioning. They are incapable of it. Their training _prevents_ it. And I think you know that."

She studied me intently for a long moment, the decks flying by as the lift took us wherever my escorts had programmed it to go. "You saw the recording of the murder?"

"Yes!"

"Tell me what you saw, what you truly saw in that recording. Was Andy… was his life ended with precise blaster fire?"

She got points for the way her voice hitched slightly at his name. But not many. "You know it was," I whispered hotly. "You helped plan it if you know that."

She sighed then, as if addressing a simpleton. "Then it wasn't our people, Tessa. Alderaan has no weapons. You know that. You lived there long enough to know that. Our people carry shock batons and would never, ever, send armed forces to meet with a peaceful diplomatic envoy, even if it was sent from a corrupt despot."

How lovely she looked, how self-possessed and in control. Hair all in place, gown only beginning to show dirt on the hem of its belled sleeves. As if she was the willing guest on the Death Star and I was the prisoner. Which I was, but there was no reason to let her know that.

"You're saying that your people couldn't get ahold of blasters?"

"No, I'm _stating_ that my people would never use them, even if they had them. Someone else murdered Senator Kuron. And if I had to guess, I would say it was someone with the best _training_ in how to kill. Someone, say, that had a reason to see peaceful negotiations fail. Someone that might wear white armor when not impersonating my people."

She turned on her pretty slippered toe, facing one of her escorts. "Am I right, trooper? Of all my escorts, you have always remained the most level headed. Perhaps that is why you and the woman are always with me. Tell the lovely Miss Motti that I am wrong. Except that you know I am right," she dared to rise up on her tiptoes, to try and meet him eye-to-eye. "Just like I am right in everything I have said about you and your friends."

That was it. That was the last straw. I took a lesson from Colonel Veers and grabbed Leia by her shoulder, shoving her back and stepping between her and the trooper. "I've had enough! Do not ever—EVER—disparage these people that risk everything to save our lives. To give us peace while you and your kind destroy it. I'll personally stop you before you so much as harm any of them with your poisonous words."

"My truths you mean," she said, and the small smile that touched her lips was worse than poisonous.

Was so much worse when I realized that I'd done exactly what she'd wanted me to do. Her words from before came back to me, of how those two troopers 'have always remained the most level headed. Perhaps that is why you and the woman are always with me.' And I'd put her up against my two escorts, who probably hadn't escorted her before. Who were probably just as angry at her offensive and slanderous words…

"NO—"

"So, Sergeant," she said sweetly right over my scream, turning to one of my escorts. "Who was your father? Let me guess, they told you that he was an Imperial fighter pilot, am I correct? Don't look so surprised. Many stormtroopers are told their fathers are pilots who die gloriously fighting for the Galactic Empire. But you know what I think? I think your parents were rebels and the Empire killed them. The Empire lied to you."

There was absolute stunned silence in the lift for a whole minute. A minute where I had backed into the trooper I was defending, had wrapped my arms around his or her waist while his/her arms came down in front of me. Not to comfort or shield me. But to make sure his/her weapon was easily in front and ready to fire.

Just one precious minute wherein we all held our breaths. Wherein we all stared at the tiny woman in white as if she were the Dark Side, incarnate.

Until one of my escorts twitched.

Until the other of Leia's escorts grabbed my arm, yanking me to the side.

Until the doors opened and suddenly the trooper I'd been defending charged forward at a dead run, grabbing Leia around the waist and nearly throwing her out of the lift. His blaster discharged a stream of blue light before she'd even hit the ground, stunning her. And I watched in that silent horrible way as one of my escorts, one of the men I'd just said was incapable of firing on an unarmed person, flicked his blaster to full auto and took aim on Leia's unconscious form.

"NO!" I screamed again.

But that was all I could do before the last of Leia's escorts had fired at one of mine. Causing the shot he'd aimed at Leia to go wide.

Inside the lift.

I was instantly covered by a white armored body as the energy bolt ricocheted throughout the lift, though I could no longer tell if it was one of my escorts doing the protecting. All I heard was the sound of white armor hitting the durasteel deck, the blasterbolt slamming around our space and then the screaming of electronics. The lift shuddered, the smell of burnt circuits filled the air.

And then we were plumming down the shaft, completely out of control.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: A big thank you to everyone that has read, reviewed, favorite and followed. I say it every time and I mean it every time. Every review helps me to make this story better. So thank you again!

I know there was some confusion last chapter with what happened with Leia. A lot of that is explained in **Loyal Soldier of the Empire - Journal of an Imperial Stormtrooper** by **Hoplite39**. I should have mentioned that in the previous chapter's notes. Sorry! Please read that story as it is amazing and ties in heavily with this one. Major thanks to **Hoplite39** for allowing me to play with the concepts and characters that make that story amazing. :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.

* * *

I awoke to one of those moments where I wondered if anyone got the number of the swoop bike that ran me over. Everything hurt, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head—especially my head—which felt like someone had used it to score a goal in Phrenbi game playoffs. But that would have required me to be on Alderaan where the Phrenbi playoffs were traditionally held, and I cognizant enough to know I wasn't there.

If I was there, I wouldn't hurt this badly. Physically, mentally, or emotionally. And that was the plain honest truth.

There was nothing but blurry pain when I finally opened my eyes, strangely surprised that they had been shut at all. Random images slowly began to take shape, and the first thing I saw was a stormtrooper helmet close enough to kiss. I jerked back, or tried to at least. There was an armored hand beneath my head, cradling it slightly. If one could be said to be cradled by white armor. It definitely wasn't meant to be nurturing or comforting, let me tell you. It was probably the least requested "look" for the galaxy's most posh nurseries.

Unless, of course, you believed what Leia had said about the Empire stealing babies from Rebels to be raised as the next generation of stormtroopers. Madness, I tell you! Our Emperor had enough people volunteering to join the smash-and-grab teams that enforced the laws. Why would he, if he was truly so wise as we were all lead to believe, turn children in to weapons of war? Why blame the sins of the parents on children not old enough to understand? Leia had to be wrong. She had to be playing a prank, or being malicious on purpose. I'd be malicious and spiteful if I'd been kidnapped and treated anywhere near the way Bria Theran had been.

And yet… yet… maybe it was the ball of agony my world had turned into, but I could see some sort of twisted justice in it. Certainly we in the so-called "elite" suffered under the same traditions. If my father decided to tell the Emperor to go suck hyperdrive fumes, my entire family would feel the consequences. We'd all be rounded up and given to the worst of the Core families for sport. Turned into little more than slaves.

Was it really a hard leap of logic to think that the children of rebels were treated the same? Taught to yearn for Imperial service with all their being, never told that they, themselves, were serving out the punishment for their parent's foolish actions?

It made my head hurt—more than it already did—to think about that.

"She's awake, sir," came the filtered male voice from the mask in front of me.

"Is she damaged?"

"Unknown, sir. There are no external injuries I can detect."

"Check her eyes. Lack of response to light stimuli will indicate brain injury and damage."

Brian damage… I almost laughed at that. If only! Part of me wished valiantly that I had been hit by a swoop rider, that the past month had been a bacta-treatment-related nightmare. But even my stupid brain wasn't that gullible. I knew what had happened. I knew that Leia somehow knew the psychological weakness in the conditioning of my trooper escorts, and had applied that… that… horrible blasphemy of hers in some effort to escape. It had caused the troopers with me to try and kill her just to shut her up. Which had led to a firefight. Which lead to someone blowing out the controls on the lift by accident.

Which lead to my current decent into madness. I mean the heart of the Death Star.

Same difference in my book at this point.

"I'm okay," I said aloud, my voice sounding muted to my own ears. "At least I think I am."

"I will be the judge of that."

A white-armored hand landed on the shoulder of the white armored person currently cradling my neck. The buzz of some sort of scanner whispered around me. Probably medical in nature. Though why stormtroopers carried medical scanners at all was a surprise to me. Then again, they had all sorts of belt boxes built into their armor. For all I knew there could have been a box for rations, a box for first aid, a box for a holocube so they could watch the latest vids while on boring guard detail…

"Stop," I said irritably when that buzzing sound approached my head again. "I said I was fine."

"Miss Motti, you are under Order—"

"Order 0000A, yes. I know that. My life is in your hands. My continued existence second only to your oath to the Emperor, may he live forever. If I so much as have a scratch on me, your honor is forever destroyed. I get it. I know the drill. Cassio made me memorize it during my training."

The only response I got to that little speech was the armored hand on the back of my neck clenching until I couldn't move it, the owner's other hand grabbing my opposite shoulder until I was wedged against his chest. No room to move, to so much as flail a hand at the annoying scanner buzzing around my head.

"Satisfied?" I growled, watching the second trooper read the results.

"Minor to moderately severe concussion," the trooper read aloud. "Bruises along most of your body, Miss Motti. There is a hairline fracture of the malleus bone in your left ear that will cause difficulty with your balance. Trooper TK-7759, you will assist Miss Motti in movements. I will take point."

That caused me to blink, sitting up after TK let go of me. They weren't kidding about the bone in my ear or the concussion. My head hurt so badly I thought I was going to vomit, so the idea of actually walking around? So not in my playbook.

"Movement?" I echoed, rubbing gingerly at my broken ear as if I could clear whatever it was that muffed it. "Why are we leaving? Shouldn't we wait right here for rescue? I mean, you guys have comm'ed the station by now, right? Or don't they have trooper trackers on you to know where you are at all times? Isn't a recovery team in route right now?"

The one obviously in command stood, slipping the medical scanner into a belt box and retrieving his blaster. "I am certain LC-9087 has called for an emergency extraction. However, this area is heavy with radiation. It is interfering with our short-range comlinks. In addition, exposure to this much radiation could be fatal. We need to move now."

I almost wilted with relief. LC-9087… he'd been in that turbolift, and had saved Leia's life. If anyone could keep a level head and get us the help we needed, it was him. I mean, he'd been the one to recognize my face moments before his squadmate had executed me months ago on Alderaan. Anyone that could recognize a flash of a profile hidden behind tangled brown curls and instantly correlate that to a detainment order that wasn't part of his current mission objectives had to be sharp, right?

I realized that I was suddenly placing a lot of faith on someone I had never really met. But if he was half the man I thought he was, I was going to correct that when we got out of this. Whether the meeting meant anything to him or not.

And then it dawned on me just what RC-5342 had said. Radiation? I felt my head spin, and I didn't know if that was the concussion or if my sudden realization of just where we had ended up was making me want to pass out again. "How high is the radiation here?"

"Miss Motti, we should mo—"

"Oh enough with this polite crap," I snapped, hoisting myself to my feet and then wobbling unsteadily on them. "Look, I understand that you are doing your jobs and what I'm about to state is probably the height of stormtrooper rudeness. But we aren't exactly in a position anymore where protocol is going to be our saving grace. I'm Tessa. You'll call me Tessa. And I want to know your names. Now."

They exchanged looks, before the leader finally looked at me. "Zarine Yalasa, operating number RC-5342."

"Tobias Angkill, operating number TK-7759."

Alright. Finally, we were getting somewhere. At least verbally. "Okay, Zarine and Tobias. Nice to meet you. Those are names I can remember. I don't want to be caught in a situation where I'm trying to remember your numbers if I want to talk to you. Does that sound less insulting?"

"We are not offended," Zarine offered, and it felt strange to assign a woman's name to that male filtered voice. "We are honored to be given this duty, Miss Mot—Tessa. We would be further honored to complete it by returning you to your proper place alive."

I almost cracked a smile at that. Almost. "Zarine, that's the most polite way I've ever been told to shut up and move along."

"Yes, Tessa."

"How high is the radiation in this area?"

Tobias pulled a white disk from his belt. "High enough that remaining here for much longer will cause long term damage. According to the readout, we have been here four hours already. We cannot delay, Mi—Tessa. We must move to a location where the levels are lower."

I couldn't argue with that, so I settled with gaping at him as he took that white disk and a black strap and began to affix that disk to my wrist. "Wait, don't you need that?"

"Your protection is of higher priority. Our armor will offer some resistance to the radiation."

I tried to close my fingers over his, to stop him from doing this. Either my aim was way off due to my injuries, or he was just that fast. Every time my fingers got in the way, he shifted the disk and continued binding it to me anyway.

"You said some resistance," I tried. "But not complete resistance."

"I still possess my shield," Zarine put in, tapping a belt box. "TK-7759 and I will rotate usage for the time being."

They weren't going to let up on this argument, I knew. Their orders and their honor wouldn't let me come to harm, even at the cost of their lives. I gritted my teeth and nodded. Making a mental note to somehow slip the shield to one of them in about an hour. It didn't matter to me if it was their job to die for me. I wasn't going to let it happen unnecessarily. And that was that.

"Okay," I said again, glancing at the shield. "I think… I think I might know where we are. The radiation being this bad can only put us in one of four points on the station—under the main superlaser generators. I think… I may know how to get us out of here."

They stared at me a long moment, so much so that I sighed. "You know, I'm not a complete idiot. I'm dating a Grand Admiral, for star's sake. And not one that gets his jollies in running a Fleet. I'm dating a scientist, someone with a brain. What in the Empire did you think we talked about on our tours of this station, the weather on Imperial Center?"

Again, they said nothing. I had the sinking sensation that they had both served as my escorts before. And they both thought I was just like Domina Tagge, an empty-headed, vapid, harpy of a woman that cared only about her rise in the social arena. I gritted my teeth again, shaking my head. Of course they would think that. Wasn't that the image I had given off under the drugs? Wasn't that what all those silk dresses and fancy dinners projected?

When I got out of this situation, I was going to wear pants again. Kriff, I would put on a full Imperial Uniform if I had to. The image of the metal roses from Admiral Daala floated into my mind, and I made my memory of her a focal point. She wouldn't be wasting time arguing with stormtroopers and lamenting fancy dresses. She'd have taken charge and saved everyone all by herself, I was willing to bet.

After I met LC-9087 face to face (even if I had to stun him, sit on his chest and remove that damn helmet myself to just get a look at him), I was going to insist on visiting Admiral Daala wherever she was stationed. Uncle could arrange that. I'd make it a condition of my wedding agreement.

"Never mind," I said, stalking forward… and nearly falling on my face until Tobias caught my arm. "This way," I said with a lame wave of my hand. "We need to find a way up. There should be ray shafts and maintenance tubes around here somewhere. At the very least we should find a panel to make a call."

* * *

One of the first military doctrines that Con had had to learn at the Academy was this: no plan, no matter how well devised, ever survives first contact with the enemy. I remembered him railing at that, determined to prove his instructors wrong. A well-laid plan, complete with reliable reconnaissance of the attack zone in question, should have no trouble dispatching an enemy of questionable strength. And no matter how he spun it, how many times he ran his perfect scenarios through the computer, he was always proven wrong.

There were too many variables in open combat. Weapons could jam or misfire, terrain that was suddenly stable could collapse and take the majority of your forces with it. Weaker enemies could turn into raging death machines if pinned into a corner. And no matter how well you thought you knew your chosen battle ground, there was always something more to learn, something that was overlooked or forgotten.

Like, say, what happens to circuits if massive amounts of energy were funneled through them when they weren't grounded properly.

I stared at the melted mess that was the latest comm. panel and tried my best not to have a screaming fit. It was the fifth one we'd found in the past five hours, and like all the others, it was so much melted slag. When the Death Star had destroyed Despayre, it had had to have drawn every last bit of juice from the four massive generators, funneling it through more systems than I knew how to count to create that massive death beam. I didn't know much about engineering, but I did know enough to realize backup and safety components were always installed in anything electrical, designed to blow first in the case of a power overload and protect the more sensitive circuits.

The backup grid had blown perfectly as it should have, protecting the vital systems.

Unfortunately the auxiliary call panels weren't considered vital systems.

I leaned against the wall, holding Tobias's blaster rifle and helmet while he fiddled with the ruined lumps of metal that used to be components. "Any luck?"

He popped his strawberry blonde head out of the panel, shaking it both to remove the burnt cinders from it as well as to give me the bad news. It reminded me of a lion cub doing the same. Tobias was far too young to be a stormtrooper in my opinion. Barely my age if a day older.

"No, Miss Tessa. I was able to scavenge a few more parts from this unit, but not enough remains to either repair or construct a new communicator."

"Then we keep moving," I said, watching him drop the parts into the makeshift bag we'd made from one of my skirts. "There's bound to be a way out or a panel somewhere we can use."

"Yes, Miss Tessa."

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Zarine glancing down at the radiation shield clipped to her belt. At least I think that was what she was looking at. You could never really tell behind those helmets. "Something wrong, Zarine?"

There was the slightest hesitation, as if she really didn't like going by her given name. "No, Miss Tessa. We should do as you suggest and continue on. Thus far the radiation levels are falling, but not fast enough for human standards. It is my suggestion that we skip the next few comm. panels and continue our climb upward."

"But we run the chance of missing a viable comm. station, or one we can fix."

"Each moment we delay is potentially deadly, Miss Tessa. Given the viability in the last five panels, I do not believe we will find an operational one in this sector."

I couldn't argue with that. I wanted to, don't get me wrong, but she did have a point. And while I had somehow become defacto leader of this survival squad, she had the experience with actually _surviving_ life threatening scenarios. I amended my previous plans once we got out of this place. I was going to see if Zarine wanted to go with me to visit Admiral Daala.

And then I was going to beg both women, on my knees if I had to, to teach me how to be as strong as they were. To not be so bloody useless. Somehow I got the feeling that Martio would approve. I certainly knew that Cassio would.

Stars, Cassio… I should have kissed him in that art gallery instead of Grand Admiral Thrawn. Even if my kissing him was the only thing that got him away from Uncle and back where he belonged. Was it crazy that I was expecting an Admiral several hundred light years away to suddenly return the favor and save me? Probably. Just as crazy as wanting to throw everything to the winds and ask Cassio to run away with me.

I blamed that on the concussion. And the radiation.

"Okay," I relented, pushing thoughts of both men from my mind and focusing on Daala again. Time to be a strong woman and save myself! "We compromise. We skip the next five stations. Deal?"

"Agreed."

I handed Tobias back his helmet and rifle, accepting the bag in return. I was voted the one to carry the components, leaving Tobias and Zarine free to carry their blasters just in case. I had no idea what they thought they were going to have to shoot down here. The station was too new to develop any kind of mynock or pest problem, and if a nest of rebels had taken up residence in the bowels of the Death Star unnoticed, the Empire had bigger problems than they thought.

They could keep their guns. I'd carry the sack/remains of my skirt. Just like I'd given in to letting them call me 'Miss Tessa.' As apparently it was above their training levels or ranks or whatever to be on first name basis with me.

Zarine nodded her helmeted head, taking point again and leading us forever onward. The hallways were narrow, too narrow for us to walk side by side. Unfinished raw durasteel, black as night, made up these sections of the base. Maintenance hallways made for droids and the occasional lone technician that had the bad fortune to draw duty when said droid malfunctioned. I ended up in the middle with Tobias's hand on my shoulder for support and guidance as whatever had melted the comm. units also blew out the lights. Tobias and Zarine were fine with their helmets, switching between spectrums and scanners to have clear sight in the utter dark. I was reduced to using Tobias's glow rod, thickly wrapped in another section of my ruined skirts so that I had enough light to see two steps ahead of me and not interfere with their dark sight.

We came to an intersection, and I took a moment to think. If our progress in the past five hours put us where I thought it did…

"Left," I declared. "Left should lead us towards the main trash compactor lines. If I'm correct, we're about a hundred or so decks beneath detention block AA23. It's a good thing I actually paid attention to the layout of this place."

I saw a tiny minuscule tilt to Tobias's head, reminding me so much of how LC-9087 had almost glanced at me in that turbolift a lifetime ago. At least it felt like a lifetime ago since he'd dragged me—literally—kicking and screaming onto the station. Stars, I still had to apologize for that, too.

"What?" I asked him.

"Nothing, Miss Tessa."

I snorted. "You know, this trip is taxing enough without conversation to break up the monotony. I'm in charge here, or so your Order 0000A states. So ask your question or make your comment."

Another momentary pause, and I got the feeling he was waiting for Zarine to countermand what I'd said. When she didn't, he continued. "May I ask why you were interested in the layout of the Death Star?"

"Honestly? I was hoping to find a way to escape it."

His hand on my shoulder did one of those jerky motions that was almost too subtle to notice. "Why?"

I fought not to turn my head to look at him. My balance was still horribly wrecked, and moving my head at all sent of shooting pains behind my eyes. "For many reasons, I suppose. Chief among them simply because I did not want to be here."

"Why?"

"For starters, I'm not military. I'm a civilian. And this isn't exactly a destination resort. Secondly, I didn't want to get married."

"I… don't understand, Miss Tessa. What does marriage have to do with the Death Star?"

I laughed, a bittersweet sound. "That's the question, isn't it? I'll save you from all the boring political details, but it basically comes down to this: it's an unspoken law among the Core World families that once a person comes of a certain age, they are expected to marry someone of equal or better status in the Royal Court. It's all about alliances and duties to your family."

"And you did not want to do your duty?"

The question was asked with such a level of disbelief in it that I did glance backwards. I don't know what I expected to see, given that he still had his helmet on. But I could imagine the shocked disbelief that went along with those words.

I shook my head, rewarding myself with nearly stumbling to my knees both from a lack of balance and a sudden blinding pain. Tobias somehow tucked his blaster into the crook of one arm and got the other around my waist before I so much as tilted.

"Thank you."

"You are welcome, Miss Tessa."

"Though I suppose now I owe you an answer to that question for saving me."

"You owe me nothing, Miss Tessa. It is my honor to serve the great families in the course of my duties to the Emperor."

I sighed. "You all really believe in your oaths and duties, don't you, down to the last letter of them."

"Of course," he said, the conviction in his strong words matching the disbelief in his last. "The Emperor, in his wisdom, has provided for us all. Everyone has a place in the Empire, everyone a duty to perform. Those that are without duty or honor simply do not want either. We are to follow the example of our Emperor and pity them, guide them within the loving orders he has issued through our chain of command."

A stray memory finally clicked for me. The silence from LC-9087 in that turoblift the first time. The way that all my escorts had explained things to me in the simplest of terms. How I thought they'd treated me like glass, like something fragile on the orders of Cassio and Conan. Now I knew. They really did think I was an idiot. A poor, unintelligent creature one step above an alien only by virtue of being human. They didn't respect me at all.

They pitied me. Pitied me and my running away from my duty to marry and produce another narrow minded biased man or empty-headed pitiable woman.

And they fired relentlessly on the other species of the galaxy not out of rage or a psychopathic conditioning to kill, but because they felt they were doing the compassionate thing. Putting down a rabid or wounded animal to end its misery.

If I didn't already want to vomit from the concussion and ear injury, I surely would have now.

"I hate this place," I nearly sobbed.

"Why?"

Kriff, he was still "speaking freely," twisting that knife into my heart with his innocent questions. Me and my big mouth, wanting these troopers to speak with their programmed rhetoric. I suddenly missed the oppressive silence. I suddenly regretted a lot of things.

I shrugged out of his arm, hurrying to keep pace with Zarine a few steps ahead. "Because it reminds me of everything I hate in this galaxy," I answered bluntly. "Why can't people just be people? Why all these laws and restrictions and hatred wrapped in twisted compassion?"

"Because," Tobias said, catching up to me and putting that gauntleted hand—the one that had felt so reassuring and protective until he'd said what he'd said—back on my shoulder to guide me. "The galaxy tried that before. It gave us the Separatist Movement in return, and after that the Clone Wars, and after that the Jedi Uprising. It took the august wisdom of our Emperor to sweep away the old and give us true and lasting peace."

"At the end of a blaster?"

He shrugged. He actually shrugged. I felt it through his hand. "What would you have us do, Miss Tessa?" He asked, earnestly wanting my answer. "The galaxy was on the brink of ripping itself in two. The Senate approved with thunderous applause the rise of our Emperor. Did you not see the humble tears in his eyes as he assumed the role they cast him into? It was a faith-strengthening show that every loyal citizen of the Empire should review daily. You are a Motti, and as such so much closer to our wise Emperor than I could ever dream. Surely one of your noble blood is unhappy with something, you will have a wise modification to suggest."

I gritted my teeth, clenched that makeshift bag until my knuckles were white with effort. And then let it go, letting out the breath I had been holding along with it. Tobias honestly didn't know what he was saying. Or more to the point, he couldn't see past the programming to understand the words he was truly speaking. Having been on the receiving end of that conditioning drug, I knew firsthand just how powerful the need to believe whatever you are told could be.

"I don't have all the answers, Tobias," I said tiredly. "If I did, I'd be on Imperial Center right now making those changes."

"I see," he said, sounding almost cheerful, as if finally understanding something that had puzzled him. "You do not want to be here, or to be married, because you devote yourself mind and heart to assisting His Majesty in finding those answers to those challenges. That is why you wish to be elsewhere. Miss Tessa, thank you for this conversation. Your dedication to the Empire is truly beyond measure. Like the time I escorted Admiral Motti, this has been one of the greatest honors of my life."

"By the Empire, you ate more than your fair share of the conditioning drug, didn't you?"

"Never, Miss Tessa," he continued gravely, utterly missing the sarcasm in that question. "We are prohibited from consuming anything save for our medicated rations. It is grounds for Administrative Punishment."

"What is—"

"TK-7759 speaks out of turn," Zarine snapped, eyes still forward as we headed towards a growing funk in the air. Apparently I had been right. We were heading towards the main garbage collection lines. "He speaks of stormtrooper business to one not in the white armor, and perhaps should meditate on his oaths to our Emperor in silence until he understands the difference."

"Yes, sir," Tobias snapped, crisp and proper like a trooper should.

"No, Zarine. It's okay," I tried. "At least about the conditioning drugs. I understand it completely."

"You are not a stormtrooper, Miss Tessa. You cannot know."

"I beg to differ, Zarine. I've had those drugs. I know what they can do."

I'd seen stormtroopers move quickly. I've seen them aim in the blink of an eye and fire two rounds before said blink was even finished. But unlike the drugs in question, I'd never experienced it when I was at the wrong end. Just suddenly the hand on my shoulder tugged me backward until I slammed into Tobias's chest. And just as suddenly Zarine was filling the space I'd stood in, looming over me almost larger than life. She was almost as tall as Con, and at least as tall as Cassio, so she could loom with the best of them.

"Explain that last statement, Miss Tessa."

"I thought you said we had to keep mov—"

One gauntleted hand caught my chin, thumb and forefinger on either side of my mouth. "Explain," she said softly. Deadly. "Do so now."

"Someone has been drugging me," I said in a rush, eyes wide. Aware very much that Tobias's other hand wasn't securely around my waist, and that his weapon was held in that free hand. A tiny shift of that arm and he could pump several rounds into my side. I'd be dead before I even felt it. "I don't know who. Uncl—I mean Grand Moff Tarkin, General Tagge, and Admiral Motti don't know at this point who was doing it. Just that someone was slipping me the base conditioning drug for about two weeks. I've received a week full of decontamination injections to counter it. So I should be fine, right?"

Stars, let that be right. Let this whole thing be alright…

I got the impression of Zarine taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She made a hand signal, and Tobias eased up on my shoulder. "I take it this is a serious thing?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Yes." Was all she would say, turning away from me and starting down the hallway.

"It's stormtrooper business, am I right? And you do not discuss that with non-troopers."

"Yes."

I let Tobias gently push me forward, continuing on our journey. "Why are you so angry? I didn't accuse you of doing this to me."

"Honor," Tobias answered, a simmering anger replacing the appreciation in his voice. "You are not a trooper, so you do not understand what is required of us. We put aside everything. Family, marriage, our very sense of self. We become more, a part of large collective, by doing so. Our drugs, as you roughly put it, are a mark of our honor and sacrifice in the name of the Emperor. For another to consume them… it is an insult to every honorable trooper, alive or dead."

"I never meant insult. I—"

"It is not you that I am angry with, Miss Tessa," Zarine growled. "When we complete our mission objective and you are safely reunited with your family, I will personally see to it that the matter of your drugging will be resolved. Not a trooper on this station will rest until the culprit is found. Our honor is stained. Our oaths to the Emperor violated. Both will be avenged."

I decided to stop talking then for two reasons. Firstly because I was just digging myself deeper into trouble with these two. And secondly because the next time I opened my mouth, I really would vomit. Not from the concussion or the conversation, but from the stench that permeated the air. We'd found the main garbage collection level, and the noxious odor nearly knocked us all to our knees.


	12. Chapter 12

"Well, Con was right," I said, my voice coming out completely muffled behind my sleeve. "If there was a pile of absolutely dreck laying around, I'd be the first person to stumble into it."

I think Tobias tried to stifle a laugh at that, or tried not to vomit behind his helmet, one of the two. The stench was that bad, that unbelievably horrific. And we were only half-way through it, with a good mile to slog through to the other side. Trudging through liquefied sewage and trash that was nearly up to our waists. Okay, it was up to _my_ waist. It hit about mid-thigh on Zarine and Tobias.

I saw all manner of things in those mountain-sized piles of refuse. From clothing to bits of computer components, to even a book—a real paper book of all things!—tossed haphazardly about. I used a length of broken pipe like a walking staff now, freeing up Tobias to have both hands on his weapon, and maneuvered over to the book.

The pages were sodden, soggy and mold covered. I couldn't make out any of the characters, nevertheless tell what language it was in, but that didn't stop me from tucking the thing into the bundle of parts I carried. If the Empire could create a laser powerful enough to destroy an entire planet, they had better have something that can restore paper to its original form. Then have a way to track down whoever had thrown this thing away in the first place! Who throws out a book of all things, when such items are a rare extravagance?

If the culprit was either Uncle, Brother, or my soon-to-be-possibly fiancé, I don't think the Lord Vader himself could stop me from throwing everything not nailed down at their heads. With all their prattling on about respect and rank and station, one would think they would show proper care to items.

But then again, hadn't Uncle liquidated his entire private art collection just because I dared kiss an alien man (didn't matter that said man was a Grand Admiral granted his title by HIS MAJESTY THE EMPEROR, nor that he was incredibly attractive. Or that the only thing separating said man from human was the color of his skin and his eyes) in front of one of the paintings? He _would_ be the type to throw away a book just because the spine of it was displeasing to him that day.

Stars, I needed to get away from this place. And not the immediate area, either. I wanted off this battle station with a passion before I became used to things like this. Like the throwing away of words and ideals and thoughts just because someone wanted to, or drugging people until they no longer cared what their own name was anymore. And yes, I'd marry Martio right this instant if it meant I never had to see this place again. In fact, it would be best for everyone if I did exactly that, because if I married Martio, I don't think I could ever face Cassio again.

There were some wounds that could never heal, and he was going to be one of them for me. My first and only love, and my first and only weakness.

I tried to toss that thought behind into the latest pile we passed, juggling the bundle as best as I could. Tried to replace them with thoughts of Martio, instead. Maybe after we were married, he and I would sit together in our new home and puzzle out the language in this book? I'd rest my head on his shoulder, his arm around my waist. Smiling with distant politeness at one another like we always do. Someplace warm, with a dark blue sky just fading to twilight, where the air smelled of flowers and my only worry was ensuring he was happy. That was how a lady of high station was supposed to act, right? That was the future that Con and Uncle wanted for me.

No matter how hard I tried, and trust me, I did my absolute best, I just couldn't see it. I saw myself, not in a lacy dress of the latest fashion, but in good wool trousers with my hair pulled back in a simple braid. Laughing until I cried as Cassio mentioned the latest blunder of this idiot moff or that moronic politician. In my hand was a good pint of strong ale, in his a glass of respectable whiskey. And beside us were people like Zarine and Tobias, all rank forgotten in a second-rate crowded cantina near where Cassio was currently stationed. All sharing in the amusement like real people did.

Like I had when I was just a nobody law clerk on Alderaan called Brianna Ternst.

I stopped myself before I rubbed a filthy hand across my eyes, trying to simultaneously burn that fantasy into my memory and yet leave it behind with the rest of the trash. Alderaan was gone. Cassio was never going to give up his career for me. And Brianna Ternst was a pipe dream I had the luxury of living for a year or so. Reality sucked, smelled worse than this garbage pit after that taste of paradise. And I might as well get used to it. Besides, there were worse things than marrying a rich, influential member of the Imperial Court and Fleet.

I couldn't think of them off hand, but I was certain there was.

Ahead of me Zarine lifted her left hand, signaling a halt. Immediately I froze, and Tobias started sweeping his blaster back and forth to cover our rear. Zarine tipped her head to the side, listening for something, before the fingers of that lifted hand folded until the index and middle were the only ones upright. Bending those fingers twice was the signal to move forward cautiously. They'd taught me a little of what I called stormtrooper hand code. It was the only way to keep me from getting in the way.

That one meant that she'd heard something or seen something. Something that had her on edge. So that meant the rest of us were, too.

I dipped my staff cautiously into that rancid liquefied garbage, felt it skitter across the floor as I put my weight on it. Dipped it again—

—and felt it hit something squishy. Something that felt like flesh. Something that rolled away and then wrapped around the end of my staff.

"Zar—!"

That was about as far as I got. I had a split second to stagger before whatever it was that I hit wrapped itself around my leftmost leg and pulled me under.

Black inky death was all around me, a second tentacle wrapping around my torso so tightly I felt a rib crack. There was nothing to grab onto under that vicious gel, my fingers scrambling against smooth deck plating. It figured that the floor of the kriffing garbage unit would be polished durasteel while every wall we'd passed up to this point had been rough, unfinished blackness. It would ruin the reputation of the Imperial Fleet if, when jettisoning it's garbage, someone just happened to take a peek at the chute and saw it wasn't polished to perfection!

Sometimes I really hated Imperial pride.

Bright spots appeared before my eyes, muffled sounding thumps accompanying each flash. Blaster fire, I hoped. My escorts trying to find and kill the thing that tangled me. One blast hit the tentacle around my chest, and with a shriek that sounded near-human, the thing let go. Of that part of me at least.

I broke the surface with a gasp that came from my toes, one that turned into a shriek as Zarine grabbed my shoulder and pulled. "IT STILL HAS ME!"

That dramatic announcement was unnecessary, as the moment the last syllable in "ME" passed my lips, I was jerked under again, smacking my head against the floor. Everything went white for a long while, a dull pain permeating my entire body. I heard another thumping sound, and without realizing it I opened my eyes. Realizing that somehow, through all of this, I still had that muted glow-rod tucked into my belt.

Tobias was under the water with me, his right arm jerked at an angle that let me know it was out of its socket, a tentacle wrapped around that flopping wrist. But his blaster was in his other hand, firing bolt after bolt at the waking nightmare. I couldn't make out the shape of our attacker distinctly, but I saw enough to know it was gargantuan. Massive. More tentacles than I could count, and more teeth that that circling a gaping maw of a mouth. It shuttered and flinched with each blast, jerking Tobias around like a rag-doll, slamming him into the floor and whatever trash was at this level.

All the while pulling us inward towards a cave—a cave!—made of debris. Just how long had it been since they purged the garbage tanks here! Somewhere in the range of never?!

The tentacle around my legs suddenly pushed me hard into a pile of trash, a second one sweeping more debris on top of me. Pinning its prey so it could be drowned and eaten later. I screamed then, lost all my will, all my hopes that my escorts would save me. And, unfortunately, most of my air supply. Tobias aimed at anything and everything he could, hitting the creature more times than not—

—until the creature thought I was firmly caged, let go of me, and wrapped four more around him. I screamed again as he was pulled to that gaping maw, watching him twist in his armor. Trying to escape. To survive. To…

To… kick off the nearest pile of garbage and shove his blaster in my direction?

My fingers closed over it, my eyes locking onto the dark spots in all that white blurriness I thought were his eyes through that helmet. And I did my best to save him. Stars knows I did. I fired until my vision went dark from lack of oxygen, until I could no longer feel my hands and was fairly certain I was firing at everything.

Until I saw first his arm and then his leg vanish into that maw. The liquid went darker, a sound of a muffled cry filling my ears, followed by an even worse muffled crunching sound. Cutting off abruptly as the creature neatly bit him in half.

That was my breaking point. That was the deciding moment where my nervous system gave out, taking with it my consciousness.

* * *

Tobias Angkill, operating number TK-7759, was dead.

I lay on the deck next to Zarine, staring up at the blackened hallway above me. She was on all fours beside me, vomiting noisily. Not from nerves or because she was upset, but because she'd literally jammed her finger down her throat until she was dry-heaving, purging herself of whatever foul liquid she'd consumed. There was a part of me that was ironically pleased that she was vomiting in the same corner I'd used. Efficiency apparently lent itself to vomiting. I wondered numbly if they taught a course on that at the Academy.

Of course, I'd only thrown up because she'd forced me to do it, too.

After she'd pulled me from the water, the first thing she'd done was shove me on all fours, grab my hair, and shove two fingers into my mouth and all the way down my throat. Biology had taken care of the rest. And once I'd started, I couldn't stop. Up it all came. Every drop of that foul brew, every ounce of fear and nerves and adrenaline. I purged it all until I was hollow inside. Until I collapsed on my side and rolled away, breathing raggedly, but steadily.

Alive.

But Tobias wasn't. No, Tobias Angkill, operating number TK-7759, was dead.

I just couldn't make that information fit in with the images in my head associated with his death. This was the Empire. This was the Death Star. This was the safest place in the known galaxy and then some! This… this creature out of nightmares did not belong on the Death Star! This kind of death did NOT happen in places where just a month ago I had dined on expensive food with the military's best and brightest!

This was the jewel of the Fleet, the panicle of the Emperor's mighty power. Monsters did not, I repeat, did **_NOT_** exist where the Imperial Elite rested their heads at night!

And good men like Tobias Angkill, operating number TK-7759, did not die saving selfish ungrateful brats like me. They did not give their good, useful lives, for garbage like me.

Zarine pushed to her knees. "Miss Tessa," she gasped, taking deep breaths. "On your feet, please. We must move. We are not out of danger yet."

Must we? Really, what was the point? What else waited for us here in this nightmare that should never exist? I wanted to ask that, but again what was I hoping to hear? She was programmed to keep moving like some kind of twisted service droid even if she knew we faced another year of travel through sewage and a hundred other things like that monster before we could rest. Programmed to give her life for mine, or at least present my dead body for examination before her execution.

"Miss Tes—"

"I heard you," I slurred, her face doubling and tripling before my eyes.

"On your feet, please, Miss Tessa."

She pulled me upright, putting a new staff in my hands, this one small enough to fit through the hallways but strong enough to support me. I don't know where she found it or the straps she was securing to the sodden bundle of computer parts. Efficiently and quickly, she made a makeshift harness for me, securing the sack of parts across my shoulders.

Across my torso was a newly made sling. Holding Tobias's E-11 blaster. Of all the things I didn't want to see again…

"You wouldn't let go of it," she explained, causing me to wonder if I'd asked a question out loud. "You emptied the power pack into that creature, and still you wouldn't let go."

I could have sworn for a moment there was a touch of pride in her voice at that. Was it a stormtrooper honor to die with a weapon in hand, to never surrender your blaster? I'd ask her if we survived this, if I ever cared again. At the moment neither was looking like a viable option.

She frowned at me, strong hand gripping my chin and looking to my eyes. "Do you understand a word I am saying?"

"Yes," I slurred again. "Why?"

"Your leftmost pupil is blown."

It was then that I realized that her helmet was missing, that I could see her face for the first time, heard the rich almost sultry tone of her real voice. Zarine Yalasa was beautiful. Not in the anorexic popular way of the Ruling Elite with their too thin daughters with sticks for arms and a waist a man could nearly close his hands around. Stars, how many times when growing up had I been forced to skip meals on the off chance I got "fat?" Sitting at that dining table with mother and father and Cassio, watching them eat while I stared at the tiny spoonful of vegetable paste on my plate, wanting to lick the gold leafing from the porcelain in starvation.

She was truly beautiful like Natasi Daala was beautiful, with wide dark eyes like smoky topaz, a firm jawline and sculpted cheeks. Not gaunt or hollow and frail looking until a girl literally embodied the Emperor's belief that women were pathetically weak. She was full and strong. And the manly short hair, buzzed nearly to her skull, only accented the strong line of her nose, made her eyes that much more alluring. There was a tiny scar on her right cheek, one that I just knew turned into a dimple when she smiled.

I suddenly wanted to see her smile. To have that ale with her and Cassio, to wonder if she giggled or laughed boldly.

"That's bad, right?"

"That's very bad," her double image confirmed. "We need to get you to the med bay immediately."

"Gee, and here I thought we'd delay with a picnic in this scenic location. The fresh air would do me good, I think."

That almost got me a smirk, a twitch of her lips. "Perhaps another time," her expression became serious. "We made it across to the other side of the garbage area. Which way do we go now?"

"Up," I said, half-serious and half-smirking. "We need to go up. I think… I think there's a ladder around here somewhere. A service shaft. If we go up, we'll be closer to the finished parts of the station."

She glanced around, limping towards a section of the wall, using the glow rod to search for that access panel. Her right thigh armor was mostly gone, serrated in a perfect circle where those teeth must have sank into it. Stars, she'd gone into battle with that thing! She'd literally come into the water after us, gotten close enough to—

"Did you kill it?" I blurted, watching blackish blood ooze from bite marks in her leg.

"No," she growled. "It escaped through some kind of tunnel after I shot it in the eye."

"That thing had an eye?" I asked, limping over to her.

Completely bypassing the fact that there was a huge hole in the station somewhere, as I was fairly certain the designers hadn't put a tunnel of that size into a garbage chamber. That creature had been massive!

"Yes. One," she said. "I saw it come out of the water shortly after you and TK—"

"Tobias."

She pinned me with a hard stare. "TK-7759," she corrected sternly. "He gave his life to that designation, to the duties and orders that were assigned to it. That designation saved your life. That designation will be recorded in the Hall of Fallen Heroes. Honor him with it, even if you don't understand."

I leaned my head against the staff, unable to fight with that look, with the grief that filled my heart to bursting. "Okay."

"TK-7759 went into the water after you," she continued, fingers moving along the wall until she found the service hatch I'd mentioned. "The eye came up looking for me, so I grabbed it."

"You rode the monster's eye down to us?"

"Yes," she shrugged, as if it was a common thing for her to follow monstrous appendages down into the depths of airless hell. "With my helmet on, I was able to see through the water and communicate with TK-7759. I told him to fire as often as he could without hitting you. To give me light to see by."

So that explained the random shots. Random shots, I should say, that still managed to hurt that thing.

"Did you order him to give me his blaster?"

She paused in yanking the shaft cover open. "No. That was his choice. But the fire you laid down, as poorly aimed as it was, kept the thing's attention off of me long enough to shoot it in vital areas. It retreated after that. Now, get in."

I peered into the gloom of the shaft. "There's no ladder in there."

"Neither is garbage, liquid, or monsters. We need to rest. Now is the time."

I glanced at her and then looked down. "I lost the radiation shield. If we stop, I'm going to die."

She plucked the one from her belt, folding it into the make-shift pack on my back. "We'll share it," she said before I could argue. "Remember, my armor offers protection, too."

I couldn't say anything to that, and the idea of just closing my eyes for a bit was so inviting. I limped into the shaft without further complaint, hoping against all hope that if I dreamed, it wouldn't be of death and loss. Somehow, I knew that wasn't going to be the case.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Apologies to everyone, as apparently the site did not want to publish my author's notes with my last chapter. So a giant shout out to everyone that has reviewed, favorited, followed and read this story. I appreciate you all! :D

Special shout out to **Hoplite39** for allowing me to use... well... almost everything about stormtroopers from the story **Loyal soldier of the Empire - Journal of an Imperial Stormtrooper**. Worth the read so please check it out. It'll make the stuff about Leia and her interactions with the troopers make so much more sense. It'll also tell the story of how Noremac died, how Yalasa became the best, and introduce you to the wonderful LC-9087. :D

* * *

There wasn't much in the way of rest, what with Zarine waking me up every hour. I'd just get nice and comfortable (as one could get on unfinished durasteel) and slip into a pleasant dream that did not involve Death Stars and monsters and some nice guy getting bit in half, and suddenly I'd be jarred into consciousness. Into steady blackness broken only by Zarine's glow rod, our breathing echoing loudly in the pipe. And the hated cycle would repeat itself another seven times, another seven different dreams involving the same people.

One where I kissed Thrawn and Uncle was cheering excitedly for it, another where I kissed Cassio instead and we ran away together to live in a pretty castle in the sky. And still another where I married Martio and had kids and died old in my bed, surrounded by grandchildren, or instead I married no one and died alone and afraid. The oddest one of all was the one of Lord Vader.

And no, I didn't marry him or kiss him. I did peer into those depthless ebony orbs of his mask, though, trying to see what lay beyond it. That didn't please him, my getting nose to nose with him. But neither did it displease him, oddly enough. He stood still, letting me stand on a chair to get eye level with him, and I had that strange feeling again that he searched me just as much as I searched him. Delving into each other with curiosity and that same startling feeling that we were both trapped by a fate not of our choosing.

_I will find you_, his voice echoed through my mind. _Survive, and I will find you._

"But I'm out of options," I said aloud, placing my hands on his shoulders to keep from toppling over. Even in my screwed up dreams I was wounded. How did that get fair?! "I don't know where else to go if we can't go up."

Images flashed in my mind, an access tunnel further down the way. One we would have missed otherwise. It was a direct pipeline to the garbage compactor in detention level AA23, a minor maintenance tunnel that ran parallel to the main shaft. The climb was going to be rough, though, the angle of the shaft steep and the ladder not exactly kind to ungloved hands. But if we could make it, someone would find us. I just knew it.

The Lord Vader had willed it so. I just had to wake up now and get moving. Just wake up, get up, wake up, wake—

"—up, Miss Tessa," Zarine said, a thread of concern working through her voice.

I became aware of the world again with her hands on my shoulders the way mine had been on Lord Vader's, hers shaking me until the dull light of the failing glow rod jittered in the most stomach clenching way.

"Please stop doing that," I begged, moaned. "Or I'm going to be sick again."

She let out a relieved sigh. "It's time to get moving."

My response to that was to sink deeper into my slice of the tube. "To what end? I don't know where else to go from here."

"Up," she said, as if that was a magical solution all of its own. As if a lift mechanism was going to appear and blast us to safety. "That is what you said before."

"I say a lot of things," I muttered sullenly. "That doesn't mean they are all correct."

"So you'll sit here and die?"

"Seems like the easiest option to me," I countered. "You should go ahead of me. Make it out of this place. I think I'm just going to give up right here, let the Lord Vader find my dead body if he's that hot to locate me."

Zarine gave a start. "What… why would you say that? Is the Lord Vader looking for you?"

She said it in a carefully neutral way, one I could readily agree with. Knowledge that your Dark Lord of the SIth was looking for you wasn't necessary a good thing. It could mean he was about to bestow the world's greatest honor on your head, or it could mean he was going to lop it off your shoulders with that laser sword of his. So she held off on the congratulation noise until she knew it was a good thing. Smart, that.

I shrugged sullenly again. "I had a dream he told me where to go to get out of this alive. That if I survived, he'd come to find me. But it was just a dream. I mean, why would—"

That hand was around my arm before I could blink, yanking me to my feet and nearly hurling me through the open panel for distance. I bounced on my hands and knees when I hit the deck, skidded a few feet. And when I glanced up, Zarine was out of the tube, too, starting to limp down the hallway. My bundles slung over her shoulders.

And Tobias's—no, _my_ E-11 blaster because he'd given it to _me, _because he had given his life for _me_—hanging off her shoulder.

"That's mine," I heard myself say. "Give it back."

"Earn it."

"How?"

No answer to that, nothing but the _click-slide_ of her limping steps on that floor. Survivie, the Dark Lord had said. Survive, and he would find me. I felt a pressure inside my head at that, a sudden urgency that came out of nowhere to literally get to my feet and run. Run to that access panel and make my way up that ladder as fast as I could. Besides, I wanted my blaster back. I owed it to Tobias to present it to his squad leader or whatever they called themselves and apologize for his loss.

Dammit, it was the only thing that was really mine anymore, the only choice that I had left to make in my life before I was bought and sold into marriage.

_Survive, and I will find you…_

Survive.

I pushed to my feet, letting that urgency guide me. Fill my mind with the flashes of images from my dream. "I know the way," I said through gritted teeth, sliding along the wall just to remain upright. "Give me my staff and my blaster, and I'll show you. Or so help me, I'm going to die trying to wrestle them from your hands."

She slanted a look at me, her face hidden in shadows. "Die?"

"Do I look like I'm in any condition to fight with you? You'd kill me before I so much as got near that blaster."

She tipped her head to the side. "And still you'd come after it?" she asked, suspicious disbelief in her tone. "After an empty blaster of a fallen trooper."

I shrugged a shoulder. "What's it to you, if it's just the empty blaster of a fallen trooper?"

I couldn't tell for certain, but I honestly thought she smiled then. "In another life, Miss Tessa, we could have been friends."

"In another life, Zarine Yalasa, you would have shot me in the face."

"There is that," she grinned, stepping forward enough so I could see it. "I still may do so if I am ordered to."

"I'll take that under advisement," I tried to smirk, knowing she was being as serious as she was darkly humorous. Accepting back my burdens as she handed them to me. "Okay, forward. There's a hatch about thirty meters ahead, hard to locate, but its there. If my dream was accurate, it's the key to getting us out of this mess."

* * *

Zarine was in trouble.

A fine line of blood had started to trickle from the wounds in her thigh, a steady flow that let me know one important thing: her blood was no longer clotting, which meant she had yet to take back the radiation shield for any portion of our journey.

But there was nothing we could do about it, and we both knew it. We were trudging single file up a ladder that was little more than bars of steel welded to the wall. A length of heavy-duty tubing wrapped around her waist and mine, creating a climbing rope of sorts. She'd managed to rig up some kind of clip to attach to it, and the heavy metal hook made a rather loud clang sound above me as she affixed it to the rung ahead of her.

And all through that, my shoulder was bathed in the stream of her blood.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

But not as bad as our moral. Because every hatch that we passed was magnetically sealed from the other side. Radiation levels were still too high, even in these sections of the Death Star, to chance a breech. Three hours into our climb, I'd witnessed Zarine loose her mind for a good few minutes. Her face scrunched up in a mask of utter rage, she'd hooked herself to the highest rung she could and then literally ran the walls of the shaft, building momentum. And then she'd shoulder-checked the door hard enough to fracture her should armor.

And then she'd fired at it. Repeatedly. Watching each bolt disintegrate under the force field that kept the radiation at bay.

I'd clung to the ladder beneath that landing, shielding myself as best I could. And swallowed back sobs in time to her bellow of rage. So stupid, I admonished myself. So stupid to think that dream of Lord Vader had meant anything, that the urgency in my mind was caused from something outside myself, something larger than just me.

When her rage wound down, we started climbing again. I didn't mention her loss of control, or the blood that now trickled from her nose and ears. She didn't mention the tears that ran down my face, either. Especially as every single portal reacted the same to our presence: All were locked tight until the radiation levels returned to normal.

"So this is it, then," I said, voice sounding hollow for more reasons than just my concussion or my broken ear. My hands shook as I leveraged myself down across from her on the last landing, the one that read AA23. The one Lord Vader had promised would save us. The one that was locked as tightly as all the others. "This is where we die. Last stop for hopes, dreams, and two wounded women."

I waited for Zarine to tell me otherwise, to give me another bit of stormtrooper lore that kept her kind going in the midst of impossible odds. She said nothing, leaning back against the wall opposite me and closed her eyes.

"You aren't going to try and talk me out of giving up?"

"Anything I say at this point would be a lie," she murmured, taking off her gauntlets and grasping her thigh above the bite wounds. The skin around it was red and swollen, blackish blood oozing from the dagger-like teeth marks.

"We could go back down," I found myself whispering, gazing into the endless depths of the shaft we'd just climbed. "Back to the garbage level and find a different tube. We could…"

"Not enough time," Tears worked their way down her face, mingling with the blood. "You don't have the strength to keep going, and neither do I. We'd most likely fall to our deaths before we made it back down."

"What about rest? A few hours and—"

"It wouldn't matter, Tessa," she said quietly. "The radiation will kill us soon. You've got the shakes. I've got the bleeds. We both have radiation sickness. Soon you'll start the bleeds, too."

"But the—"

It was then that I realized they'd lied to me the whole time. Their armor didn't protect them from this radiation. That's why Tobias had dove into that muck headfirst after me. Because he'd given me his radiation shield, suffering the sickness entire time. His blabbing to me about protocols and stormtrooper things had been a symptom of his poisoning, a delirium that he couldn't control. He'd known he was dead.

Diving into that water after me had given him the one thing that Zarine would not have—dying in combat honorably against a much more powerful foe.

And now Zarine was dying, too. Having gone however long we slept without a shield, and then the climb to here, to our tomb. Stars, I was such an idiot.

She looked away, closing her eyes instead of meeting mine. Reading the thoughts plainly on my face. "It was part of my orders."

"Kriff your orders."

That brought those eyes open, turned them into solid pools of angry disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Kriff your orders. Kriff protocol. Kriff the wishes and desires of everyone around me," I buried my face in my hands, laughing or crying. I couldn't tell which. Maybe I did both? "Stars help me I should have just run away with Cassio. Or the Grand Admiral. I should have asked Thrawn to take me with him. Live my life as his scullery maid or something. Anything but this mockery I'm becoming, this lie of a person just trying to please everyone. And look where it's gotten me now? I'm going to die for it. Isn't that just stunning, just the ultimate irony!"

Zarine glared balefully at me, obviously offended at my attitude towards her precious orders. "You wouldn't last two minutes as a scullery maid to a Grand Admiral. You lack the basic discipline required to hold your tongue and know your place."

"You think?" I snapped.

"I _know_. I've guarded you twice already."

"You should try being on the other side of that, Zarine. Try living my life for one second before you think it's all loose lips and the like."

"I am a loyal solider of the Empire—"

"Your discipline doesn't compare to mine in the slightest. Wait until the fate of lives are decided on the words you speak to your uncle, or that a person could lose their livelihood because they dared to press your skirt the wrong way. Wait until you are forced to attend party after party and never speak a true word to anyone present. Wait until you are in a place you'd rather die than attend, but that option isn't yours because if you don't do what you are told, they'll find someone else to stick with your fate. They always win. They always get what they want. And then they'll do much worse to you for defying them."

She shrugged a shoulder as if my words had no weight to them whatsoever, readjusted her grip on her thigh. I watched more blackish blood seep form the wound. "Like what?"

Okay that was unexpected. I thought we were fighting, and she wanted examples, as if she really gave a kriff about me? "Excuse me?" I asked this time.

"What fate is worse than death in your estimation?"

"Try nightly beatings if you get out of line."

"Administrative punishments," she countered, a nasty smile on her lips. "I've been beaten as a corrective measure many a time. It's expected."

I folded my arms across my chest. "Gowns so tight you can't breathe?"

She thumped her fist across her chest plate. "It doesn't move, Tessa. It's solid. And when it's buckled from a blow so that it jabs into your abdomen, you can't breathe, either."

I narrowed my eyes. "Forced to go where you don't want to go?"

"Not all assignments are as honorable as others. I go where I am ordered."

"Bet you are not treated as an inferior just because you are a woman."

It was her turn to laugh. And what do you know, she gigigled. She giggled like a loon, like a school girl, like the last of her sanity had just fled with my last statement. She giggled until the tears that ran down her face were mingled sorrow and regret and utter hysteria.

"Woman, I am the best shot in my entire unit," she snorted out. "I have more combat leadership experience than my previous superior. When it came time to take down a traitor to the Empire, what was asked of me? I was to guard the door to make sure no one interfered with the fight. Why? Because I am a woman. That is my only sin. That is what holds me back from further promotion. In fact, only one other rivals me for the top spot in my unit," her smile lost a bit of its poisonous edge, and so did the mirth in her voice. "LC-9087 no longer has to worry about my marksmanship overshadowing him, I suppose, though he is far better in hand-to-hand than I due to his strength."

"So you're saying that I'm a kind of stormtrooper," I said slowly, not sure why I ignored her comments about LC-9087. Maybe the almost tenderness in her tone? "In cloth instead of plasteel."

She mulled that over. "No," she said at last. "I can't grant you that. You have no concept of honor, Tessa, not as we do. You can't be selfless. You can't devote yourself to duty over your own desires. That's what makes us stormtroopers. Our oaths are our all. They are mother and father, friend and lover."

Her voice hitched on that last word, and I looked away this time. Her last sentence bringing my own emotional ghosts front and center. As if all this talk of duty and honor wasn't the largest reminder of the man I loved.

"I loved him," I whispered.

"I think I loved him, too," she whispered back.

We both looked up then, eyes locking. And all the misplaced anger and despair that choked us seemed to vanish for a moment. So did insignificant things like titles and armor and all the other stuff that had seemed so bloody important before this nightmare began. Small sad smiles on our lips, and the final kinship of the dying and regretful forging a connection to each other we would have never had otherwise.

"Congratulations," I whispered. "We've found that other life, my friend."

"So we have," she agreed, nodding.

"What was his name?" I asked.

"Does it really matter?"

I shrugged pathetically. "We're dying, so does anything really matter? Still, out of sheer curiosity, I would like to know LC-9087's name before I died. Since we were sort of engaged for about two minutes."

That brought a ghost of a smile back onto her lips. "You like him."

"I don't even know him. I couldn't pick him out of a lineup if I tried, Zarine. Besides, isn't he yours?"

She gave a start, eyes widening. "You think that's who I loved?"

My turn to blink at her. "You brought him up, didn't you? Second best in your unit and all that?"

She shook head again. "No, I don't love him, though I… I think I was starting to. Attachment is forbidden us. So is emotion. They can interfere with our orders and good people will die. That is why we take the drugs. That is why it's a crime, a dishonor, in what was done to you. The drugs are meant for us, to make us better by divorcing ourselves of the luxury of emotion. But somehow… Kriff, I still don't know how it happened. His name was Noremac," she swallowed what sounded like the beginnings of a sob. "Kriff, I don't even know why I'm telling you this. Noremac died… that bitch Organa shot him dead with a kriffing sporting pistol of all things! He died and I never told him how much I cared.

"He's the reason I'm here, Tessa. My planet was in open rebellion, my family murdered when they tried to stand up against the rebellion in the name of the Empire. Only I was left, captured by the rebels and too weak to do anything about it. I was going to be next, executed if the stormtroopers did not pull out of the city. Noremac was just suddenly there, a literal white knight in armor. He was the first through the doors, shot down but not out of the fight. His unit put down the uprising and killed the rebels. He saved me."

"Chandrila," I whispered, causing her head to snap up, her eyes to widen in surprise. "You're from Chandrila."

"Yes. But how… how do you know that?"

"I heard about that riot," I said carefully.

Kriff, Andryl had gone on and on about Chandrila during his visit, so much so that he and Martio had engaged in more than a few heated debates about what should be done to stop the uprisings. Comparing Alderaan to the Chandrila Massacre and the open rebellion on Contruum. Stars, why did it always circle back to Organa and her bloody rebellion! How come I couldn't get away from either? Even in the bowels of the Death Star, dying from radiation poisoning and the Empire knew how many other internal injuries, I was confronted by Leia's handiwork.

Staring into the face of a survivor, an eye-witness of the Chandrila Massacre… What Andyrl would have given to talk to her, to ask what really happened. And all this time she stood silently behind or beside me, never speaking a word… Ironic, that. The answers always right before my eyes.

But Andryl was dead now, and the pain of that memory just added fuel to the burning sorrow in my gut. Soon we'd be with him, and he'd be free to ask Zarine any question he wished…

"Stars, no wonder you hate Leia so much," I whispered. "Mon Mothma is the senator from your homeworld, and she's just as insane as Leia Organa in thinking our Emperor needs to go. Just as nuts with the idea that the Old Republic was the best thing for the galaxy. They've gone so far as to publicly decry the Emperor's statement as to what happened on Chandrila, stating that the Imperials were the ones that killed everyone. They claim to this day that the Empire hired pirates to raid Chandrila in order to drive up the prices of the foodstuffs produced there. Trying to claim that the Empire was the one that tried to sanitize the planet of any rebel sympathizers. Emperor Palpatine publically stated that his troops were sent in to protect everyone."

"It's the truth," she said fiercely, proud fire coming back into her eyes for a moment, turning them into liquid gold. "Those rebel scum had booby trapped the temple where we were being held. Noremac's unit was able to disarm the explosives, but not before the last spineless rebel was about to kill him. But _I_ stopped him. _I_ picked up a blaster for the first time and fired it with perfect accuracy. And he rewarded me for it, sweeping me under his arm until I was piled into the center of the unit. He took me back to his base, and put me on the shuttle for the Academy.

"I had nothing," she wiped the blood from her face with a dirty hand. "Everyone was dead. Everything I loved destroyed. But I could fight. I had a good eye for distance. I could become strong with training. All because he took the time to save my life. And when I graduated, he had me assigned to his unit. We became lovers. I think I knew we would from the moment we saved each other's lives."

"Maybe that explains my interest in LC-9087," I said. "He saved my life. I would have died on Alderaan. In fact, you would have shot me dead if he hadn't had recognized my face."

"I would have," she agreed, and another smile flirted with her lips. The unspoken _in another life _drifting between us. "Until you shoved me into that ray shaft."

I smiled briefly. "You really going to bring that up?"

"You owe me for that," she said right back. "I took a lot of grief for being subdued by an idiot girl. Though not as much grief as LC-9087 took for your so-called 'engagement.'"

My turn to gasp, feeling my face flush. "He knows about that?"

"You asked after him, said before two troopers that you couldn't marry him. He was _so_ heartbroken," she teased.

I narrowed my eyes. "You troopers gossip worse than us society girls."

"Only if the scandal is worth it."

We both giggled. Fell silent. And I sighed. "You aren't going to ask me who I love?"

"I don't need to. I know. You love General Tagge."

I groaned anew. "Does everyone know that, too?"

"Yes. But we are General Tagge's troopers, not the Grand Admiral's. We won't betray him, or those that he loves. That secret we take to our graves."

That should have made my heart light to hear that he loved me. To hear those words from a source that I could oddly enough trust with my everything. My tears joining hers to tumble into that empty shaft, along with any hope I'd had of seeing him again.

"Stars, I should have told him. I should have asked him to run away with me."

"He would have turned you down," she said. "He's a man of honor. You know nothing about honor, Tessa. You are not a match for a man like him."

"After everything I just told you that I went through—"

"Pain is pain," she cut in. "Dislike is dislike. The difference between you and me, between you and him, is that you ran away. We all know you weren't on a diplomatic peace mission. You ran away from your marriage. You ran away from your duties. Ask yourself this, Jentessa Motti, if he really wanted to marry you, if you really were the one for him, would he let something like politics get in the way?"

I opened my mouth to tell her off, and found the words dead on my tongue. "Why can't love be enough?"

"Because love isn't the sum total of his being. He's a warrior, an honorable man. And he can't trust a coward."

"So a coward is good enough for a Grand Admiral, then?"

She shrugged again, untouched by my rising anger. "I can't speak for the Grand Admiral. I have never served under him. I can tell you what I've observed, and that is that both men want different things in a wife. The Grand Admiral wants a subservient. He wants to hear you speak and let you have an opinion, sure. But he's going to make all the decisions. He'll lead. General Tagge wants a partner, an equal. You are not that. Marry the Admiral. In the end, you'll both be happier."

"I don't love Batch."

"Since when did love have anything to do with duty?"

"Is that why you don't tell LC-9087 how you feel?"

She closed her eyes again, took several deep breaths. And simply stayed that way. "I won't let myself love him like that. Yes, I could love him like I did Noremac. He's a remarkable warrior. But there are my oaths to my Emperor, my duties to the Empire that I must consider. And those at the things I see in him that mirror back at me every time I look into his eyes. That's what I love in him. That's what I think he loves in me. And that's where it needs to stay. I crossed that line with Noremac, and it nearly destroyed me. Sometimes I think," she had to stop, to swallow hard. "I think that is why he died. Because I was in that unit facing Leia Organa. I think he let his concentration slip out of worry for me. And he died. He died in the most idiotic of ways. I won't let that happen to LC-9087. I won't let that happen to me."

I hated her for this, for making me face things I'd always known about myself but never admitted to anyone. And never felt closer to anyone else for saying them out loud. "Don't die, Zarine," I whispered.

A sigh that was more breath than sound left her lips. "We can't stop that now."

I took off the shield, tried to give it to her, watched her shake her head in denial "Come on!" I snarled. "Out of the two of us here, you deserve to live! I'm the weak coward. You're the warrior. You said so yourself! You should live."

"It's too late now," she whispered, voice reedy and not at all like the strong sultry tones I had come to expect. "Even if I took that, I'd still die. Keep it. Live as long as you can. I was weak, too, once. And Noremac saved me. Let me honor him one last time by letting you live. That way, I get my honorable death at last."

I worked my way over to her, noticed that her hands were slack on her thigh, that the blood flowed unrestrained. Fresh watery blood fell from her ears, her eyes, her nose. I put her head on my shoulder, holding her hand. Knowing that even if she could hear me, she wasn't going to respond again.

"Zarine, I've never had a best friend before, not since Leia and I parted ways in school. I need you to live. I'll need a witness at my wedding. And I want you to come with me to visit Admiral Daala. You'll love her. She's strong like you. She's brilliant. I need you to come with me, to teach me how to be honorable. Please, Zarine. Don't die. Don't leave me here alone in the dark. Please."

She never replied, and I put my hand to her wrist, feeling the pulse there going thready and faint. "Don't you die on me," I choked out, shaking her shoulder roughly. "Or I'll tell LC-9087 what a punk you were at the end! I swear I'll tell him you cried like a girl over Noremac. He'll mock your memory forever for it, won't he? Zarine? Zarine!"

I laid my head against hers and cried softly, cried until I was out of tears and the last of the battery in the glow rod went out, leaving us in total darkness. Until I started to drift off, knowing I'd die here, too. Still, it would be nice not to have to worry about seeing Cassio again, to know that if Zarine was right, he didn't love me like I loved him. And even if he did, she was correct in the fact that his duty would always come first.

He was honorable. I was a coward. The two did not mix.

_Survive_, Lord Vader had said. _Survive, and I will find you._ It appeared as if that option wasn't available anymore, and I could add failing Lord Vader to the list of crimes against me.

_Survive, and I will find you._

_Survive._

In my mind's eye, the metal roses Natasi had given me began to rust, to wilt under that knowledge.

"I'm sorry," I said aloud, watching the white spots before my eyes grow. Feeling heat along the side of my body not pressed to Zarine's. "I'm sorry."

_Survive._

"I'm sorry, my Lord. I can't. I failed. I always fail."

_Survive. _

"I'm trying…"

_And I_ will _find you._

I closed my eyes. The radiation sickness must have had me. Because I thought I could feel the words in my head, as if I really was having this conversation with Lord Vader. Insane as that sounded.

_Survive!_

"Miss Motti?"

I ignored the sound, the muffled voice that seemed like it said my name. Dying, wasn't I? Delusional like Tobias had been.

But the heat grew until I was sweating, the white spots growing larger and larger behind my closed lids. The voice more insistent as it called my name, sounding as if it was right over me. Until it sounded suspiciously like Colonel Veers of all people. Why in the known galaxy would I hallucinate about him? Unless I was already dead, drifting away and apologizing to all the people I'd ever wronged. I cracked open an eye, peering blearily at his relieved face outlined against the white-hot slag of melted security door. Feeling his gloved fingers on my cheek, supporting my head.

"They're alive, Lord Vader, just as you predicted," he called back to someone. "Get two stasis tubes here on the double, and inform Moff Tarkin that his niece is alive!"


End file.
